Reborn in another world as the God-Emperor's daughter
by Mallador9000
Summary: An otaku is summoned and trained by the Emperor himself to save the universe from the gods of chaos and all other threats. She attempts to do so by changing the Imperium for the better. Can she do it? Or will humanity tear itself apart before the xenos and heretics even get to them? Overpowered OC. Future crossovers. Will change rating to M in the future.
1. No Choice

Mal had never done anything to really piss anyone off, nor had she ever been very misfortunate.

So why? Just why had she been run over by a speeding truck whose driver completely ignored the red light? Just what had she done to deserve this?

Mal was just another orphan, a loner who lived on her own without friends, distracting herself with the popular fictions of her time. Her dark purple eyes paired with her jet black hair and unusually pale skin did not help her case.

Yes, she had never done community service in her life. Yes, she never paid any attention to those homeless people on the streets who were in need of her money.

But this shouldn't have been enough to make karma to send a speeding truck at her right?

Fate couldn't be that cruel right?

Unfortunately, it was, and the worst part of it was that she wouldn't be missed. Her grumpy landlady who visited her only with the intent to acquire payment would ignore her death at best, although she would probably be rather glad without the financially challenged youth who always paid her rent late.

Mal truly led a lonely life.

However, this was about to change.

Who would have thought that her life would only turn around when she was dead?

**Present Time: Unknown Location**

Mal's eyes suddenly opened, revealing dark amethyst irises, shining in surprise.

Looking around her, she saw nothing, only an endless sea of white. In fact, she had no idea how she was standing right now, as the floor seemed completely transparent.

"_Where the hell am I?"_

These were the thoughts that passed through her mind at the time, her brain barely able to accept the existence of the area around her.

Looking down, she found herself wearing the most luxurious and flamboyant clothing she had ever witnessed. These were clothes which would probably cost multiple thousands of dollars to purchase in her world. These clothes wrapped around her body comfortably, soft to a ridiculous degree. It could be equated to the embrace of an angel.

Mal's eyes widened in pleasant surprise as her lips curved into a satisfied grin. This was just too good to be true wasn't it? She was never a girl who was obsessed with fashion, but that didn't mean she wouldn't appreciate beautiful clothes. She was a cosplayer after all, although buying costumes with her limited funds was challenging.

Mal would have never dreamed in her past life of wearing something nearly as luxurious as the clothes on her body.

The outfit could only be described as gothic lolita, giving off the appearance of the daughter of an ancient nobleman.

However, instead of the regular black, the dress was mostly gold, the decorative ribbon in the front a dark red. A large dark gold ribbon in her black hair, which flowed freely from her head, going halfway down her back.

Soon after the shock from her cloths passed, Mal also noticed another change that was made to her, one much more fundamental than a simple changing of clothes.

In her old world, the girl was severely malnourished thanks to her uncaring attitude towards her body. To save money, she ate a meal a day, which usually consisted of cup ramen, which could be consumed quickly and efficiently.

This led to the result of a skinny, bony body unfitting of a lady, a body that was silently ridiculed by many people she came across.

There was even that time where a child at the grocery store began to cry after thinking that Mal was a walking skeleton, something the mother halfheartedly apologized for.

However, looking at her sleeved arms, Mal realized that the limbs which used to be almost devoid of flesh were now being covered by a generous layer of fat and muscle, not too thick nor too skinny.

Feeling the rest of her body, the girl noticed the same thing. Her body was perfectly healthy, almost perfect in a way. To Mal, there were now no imperfections on her.

"_W-why do I have the body of a supermodel?"_

That thought was not too inaccurate.

Many girls in Mal's old would have killed for a body like hers while many boys would have killed to date someone like her.

Her chest, which used to be so small, were now at a reasonable size, easily apparent, but not large enough to truly hinder anything.

Even without seeing her face, Mal could already tell that she was beautiful. So beautiful in fact, that it hardly seemed real.

Thinking back to the incident with the speeding truck, and her waking in this strange land, Mal suddenly realized something interesting.

"Isn't this just like the plot of every single Isekai anime ever?"

Yes, it was simply too cliche. So cliche in fact, that Mal should have recognized it in an instant. She had been run over by a truck after all. That should have been a gigantic hint.

A normal girl would have been confused, even hysterical at this point, but for Mal, who had never truly been normal, nor wanting to go back to her old word for any reason, it wasn't anything to be panicking about.

Smiling slightly, Mal thought,

"_This could actually be a great opportunity. If it really is like an Isekai anime, then I could be reincarnated in another world, and actually find happiness there."_

However, a voice behind her suddenly disrupted Mal's thoughts, leaving her wary and wide-eyed.

It was a rich, powerful voice, filled with a strange, perhaps even warm, kindness.

The voice belonged clearly to a male, a middle-aged one at that.

"I'm sorry, but that might not be possible."

Turning around, Mal sought to uncover the stranger's identity, maybe even getting some answers.

However, the only scene behind her was the endless white, not showing the owner of the voice.

"Who are you?"

A confused Mal asked this, not realizing that the entity had read her mind.

Suddenly, the form of a man appeared before her, his voice much louder than it was before. One second there was nothing, and the next, there just… was.

"Are you satisfied now?"

Instead of reassuring the weary Mal, the sight of the man left her wide-eyed again, the sheer amount of shock holding off any questions she might have had to ask.

"W-w-wha? What are you doing here?!"

Those were the only words Mal could get out in this situation, as she finally realized who the man before her was.

Reasonably long black hair grew on the head of a gigantic man, easily towering over Mal. He was a literal giant, the sheer size of him able to put a fully grown grizzly bear to shame.

A golden halo over his head, the giant wore blinding full body gold armor inscribed with more decorations and symbols she could count, beautiful and detailed statuettes of golden eagles attached to his shoulder plates.

A green laurel, similar to the ones used by ancient Roman kings, sat upon his relatively large head, akin to a crown.

All of those aspects were impactful to Mal, leaving her jaw lowered to the floor in awe. She could literally feel the waves of energy coming from the man, so much of it in fact, that it was visible to the naked eye in the form of defined, golden waves.

However, all of that paled in comparison to the realization of the man's identity, something Mal instantly recognized with her first glance upon him.

This was why she asked the question.

After all, why would the God Emperor of Mankind, the ruler of a million worlds, one of the strongest characters from Warhammer 40,000 be talking to her right now? To him, she must have been an insignificant mortal, barely worthy of attention.

She was completely ignoring the fact that the God Emperor was real, as her brain did not have the time to process that right now.

The Emperor simply smiled, the good-natured expression on his ridiculously handsome face bringing forth a feeling in Mal that she did not recognize.

In that same kind voice, he answered,

"It is quite simple my child. I believe that I am in need of your assistance."

At those words, a thousand thoughts raced through Mal's brain, none of them good.

"_No no no no no! What do I do?! I don't anything to do with the 40k universe! If he does something like reincarnate me there, then what the hell do I do?!"_

The girl's expression had twisted into one of utmost fear, those purple orbs of hers overflowing with the emotion.

Everyone knew that the 40k universe was something to be admired from a distance. Even the most loyal of fans would never dream of being reborn there, not even as a space marine.

After all, who would want to live in a universe where everyone and everything was constantly fighting each other twenty-four seven? If the chaos daemons don't get you then you'll just be purged by the inquisitors for being a heretic. There was no such thing as "good" in 40k, only survival and war.

The Emperor, realizing this, attempted to calm Mal down.

"This must look so very daunting to you right now my child."

Mal froze.

"However, I chose you for this because I know that you are the only one who can save my dying empire. You possess boundless potential, more than you would believe."

Mal's next words came in a garbled mess as she took that in, her old calmness having long dissipated.

"You-what-how-wha?"

The Emperor sighed.

"I realize that in your world, my universe is naught but a work of fiction, a series of books and games to your kind. You are one of the people there who are somewhat familiar with the lore in my universe, which means that I will not have to explain too much to you."

Mal simply nodded at this, the sheer amount of fear in her systems clouding any rationality she might have had. She was something of a Warhammer 40k fan. Not too well versed in the lore, but aware of most things and important events.

"Do not fear my child, as you will receive adequate training before you are released into my universe."

"W-w-w-wha?"

Her new location completely forgotten, thoughts began to appear in Mal's head rapidly, the girl desperately trying to find a way out of her predicament.

What the hell did the prospect of training mean for preparation for the sheer incomprehensible brutality that was 40k?

In an effort to reassure her, the Emperor revealed some surprising information.

"Do not worry. You shall not falter, as you will have the same genetic code as I."

Mal's mouth was wide open again as she loudly exclaimed,

"HUH!?"

To share the same genetic code as the Emperor was to be a Primarch or a Grey Knight. Both were fearsome beings, but would only get so far in that universe. After all, several Primarchs have died and half of them had turned to Chaos. The Grey Knights, while being potent psykers and fearsome warriors, were not invincible.

However, becoming any creature with the Empire's genetic code would greatly aid Mal in the Warhammer 40k universe. She acknowledged this fact even though she still detested the idea of being reborn in such a place.

The Emperor began to walk away, gesturing for Mal to follow him with a hand gesture.

Seeing no other option, the girl complied, really not liking what was happening.

Being reincarnated into the 40k universe was to be sentenced to an eternal hell. There would be no moment of rest, only endless war, more so if she was going to take an active role in it.

No matter what this "training" the Emperor had in mind, it would not be enough. She was sure of it. After all, his own hubris was what truly led to his downfall according to the lore.

The Emperor suddenly said in a mutual tone,

"You just thought of something rude didn't you?"

Mal's eyes widened before she growled in acknowledgment.

"Of course. You're the most powerful psyker, which means that you can read my thoughts."

The Emperor simply continued to walk forwards wordlessly, almost as if he had not heard those words.

Mal knew that there was no chance of escape. First of all, there was absolutely no way she could get away from someone as powerful as the Emperor. Secondly, where would she even escape to? Mal was currently in unknown territory. It probably wasn't the warp but that just meant that she had no idea where it was.

Therefore, she could only follow behind the large man, hoping for the best, which wasn't much in her current situation.

Resigned to her fate, Mal slowly walked behind the Emperor, awaiting her "training".

**Sometime Later, Unknown Location**

Mal looked at the shabby looking house before her with disbelief and disappointment.

Other than the fact that it was seemingly made of gold, nothing about the structure was impressive in any way.

It was a small European abode with one floor and two windows in front.

Mal's confusion grew at this. Where was this? Why had them Emperor taken her here?

Before she could voice her questions however, the man quickly replied to them.

"This is my house. It is also where you will be staying from now on to the end of your training."

Mal was simply gaping at this point, unsure of what to think. Was this seriously the Emperor's home? This little house which didn't even look as if it had three rooms?

She eventually found her voice and pointed this out.

Trying not to be rude to the practically omnipotent god before her, she chose the best words she could in this situation.

"It's… smaller than I thought it would be."

The Emperor cheerfully replied, understanding her surprise.

"I always prefer the small and humble things opposed to the flamboyant ones. However, I couldn't let anyone know this as my subjects would be horribly disillusioned. Since I was the Emperor, I had to show off my power and wealth so I could not be undermined. Therefore, Even if I didn't like it, I had to live in a grand palace and make everything I owned needlessly shiny and flamboyant. It was a real pain in the neck."

Mal could only nod at this. After all, she could understand wanting to live humbly and normally. It was something he always did, something she would always do, even if it she had a choice in the matter.

Although, she wouldn't mind being just a little flamboyant, just to see what it felt like. She simply adored the clothes she wore, even if it was just for the comfort and the appearance augmentation it gave.

Continuing to walk, the two of them eventually made it to the house.

Somehow shrinking down his body, the Emperor took the form of a normal sized man to get through the door. All of his excessive armor vanished into a golden mist as he was left with only a black T-shirt and sweatpants.

A similar change occurred to Mal, leaving her with a white blouse as soon as she entered the house.

The living room was small, one of the three rooms (excluding the restroom), in the house. The room illuminated with a single lightbulb on the ceiling, Mal and the Emperor sat on chairs in a small golden dining room, Mal carefully examining the material of the constructs.

It was clearly not pure gold, perhaps an alloy considering the sturdiness of it.

The chair Mal sat on was not cold, as she would assume it to be, instead radiating a strange heat, not overwhelming, only preventing the cold experience of sitting on cold metal. It was strange how convenient it was.

Mal did not ask how the Emperor made everything with or what he made it with, as there were more pressing matters to discuss.

Starting the discussion, Mal traced the outline of the table with a finger.

"So, what do you mean by training?"

The Emperor smiled at this, answering cheerfully.

"I will personally train you to be the strongest psyker, swordsmen, marksman, leader, and inventor the Imperium has ever seen."

Mal's eyes widened.

"I'm a psyker?"

The Emperor sighed as if he expected her to not ask such a stupid question.

"You possess my gene-seed after all. Besides, you can't be a chosen hero in my universe without powers."

Mal frowned.

"What about the non-psyker Primarchs?"

The Emperor sighed.

"They were born and raised in hostile and trying environments. Besides, even they can't take on a whole ork WAAGH or an army of Tyranids on their own."

Mal's eyes widened again.

"Huh?! You actually expect me to do that?!"

The Emperor nodded seriously.

"I will make you a hero of the Imperium, someone who could take on whole armies by herself."

Mal sputtered.

"Wha-what makes you think I can do that?! And why me?! Couldn't you have chosen a soldier for this job?!"

The Emperor stared into Mal's eyes with a completely serious and grave expression on his face.

"It is because I see great potential in you Mal. I believe you can succeed where even my sons have failed. Please, save my world before it's too late."

Mal suddenly began to blush heavily.

"I-I-I"

No one had believed in her as the Emperor had. This was practically the first time someone had actual expectations for her, the first time someone entrusted something to her. Even if she knew that his request was something much worse than a death sentence, it was suddenly much harder to refuse.

Mal's brows suddenly furrowed in thought before relaxing, as she sighed in acceptance.

"I don't have a choice do I?"

The Emperor sighed.

"I'm afraid not. I spent all the energy I was saving up for the last millennium to bring you to my universe and to imbue with you with my powers and gene-seed. Moreover, my throne is slowly degrading, and when the life support fails, Chaos will reign supreme."

His eyes became almost remorseful.

"I no longer have the power to send you back home, nor do I have the power to protect humanity for another thousand years. I'm sorry."

Mal's eyes were wide, her face expressionless. Despite several pieces of unclarified information and an influx of emotions, she managed to somehow keep calm and maintain a steady voice.

"Can I have a while to think about this?"

The Emperor simply nodded, understanding that there was nothing he could say to better the situation. He simply told Mal that her room was the one to the right of the living room, watching her as she walked past the door.

**Mal POV**

Closing the door behind her, Mal entered her bedroom.

It was just a standard bedroom, except everything was gold. A bed lay in the left corner of the room, an active lamp standing on top of a wooden platform next to it.

There were no decorations whatsoever in this room, only the bare, golden walls, greeting Mal's eyes.

Sighing in exhaustion, the girl climbed on top of the bed, burying her face in the strangely soft golden pillow.

"_Do I even have a choice in this? I mean, it's either save the universe or be tortured for all eternity by the Ruinous Powers. If they get enough power then I'm sure that they can reach here, wherever it is. I'm sure that the Emperor wouldn't lie to me about this. After all, what reason would he have to do so?"_

Mal moaned in another burst of mental exhaustion, her head still buried in the pillow.

However, she then sat up on the bed, her face containing a small trace of determination.

"_Yeah, I really don't have a choice in this. Even if it's just for survival, I'm going to have to do something about this situation. The only way my life can even be half decent anymore is if I take him up on his offer."_

She frowned.

"_Wait, a decent life? Since when did I ever have one of those? My life has always been disappointing, that's actually a reason I was so excited when I thought I would be reincarnated. If I become powerful then can't I just make myself a good life?"_

Groaning, Mal shook her head.

"_Then again, I'm in the Warhammer 40k universe. Is there even such a thing as a 'good life' in this place?"_

Growling in annoyance, Mal finally made up her mind.

"_That doesn't matter. I don't have a choice in this. I have to get as much power as possible and finally find a way to live happily. It might seem impossible, but it's the only route I can take."_

There was really no point in thinking anymore. After all, nothing would change even if she did so. This was a situation Mal could not escape even if she thought about it for a hundred years. Therefore, she was going to do the sensible thing, and make the most out of it.

Waking out the door with a look of determination in her eyes, Mal strode back into the living room, into the vision of the sitting Emperor who was sipping coffee from a golden cup.

"That was fast."

He stated this before taking another sip. The reason for his change in attitude was unclear and frankly, unimportant.

"There's no point in thinking anymore. I don't have a choice, I'll take you up on your offer."

The Emperor sighed.

"I'm truly sorry for this my chil-"

Mal interrupted sternly.

"Don't call me that. My name is Mal, just Mal."

Eyes widening in surprise at this authoritarian, almost aggressive behavior, the Emperor was impressed.

He had chosen the right one.


	2. Training

**Mal POV**

It had been a year since training with the Emperor first began, at least to Mal. After all, time didn't pass properly in the Warp, which was where she currently resided in.

Mal could still remember the frightened and shocked expression she made when it was revealed that she was inside the same realm as the warp gods.

The Emperor simply laughed this off and informed her that the gods would not be able to influence her as long as he protected her and if she kept a disciplined mind.

Of course, this did not have its full effect and only served to comfort Mal slightly. There was a saying amongst Warhammer 40k fans. "Chaos always finds a way."

The Emperor trained her in every method of combat with every single known weapon. Of course, the training dummies and weapons were conjured by himself with that strange gold he was able to make at a moment's notice. Apparently, they were simply psychic projections he could summon when he was in the warp. He said that it wouldn't be very easy to do in the material realm or something like that.

Anyways, Mal quickly became extremely proficient with the small bolters the Emperor made for her. Just everything about her was augmented by the Emperor's genes, which had gone into remaking her body. She was not aware of the specifics, but it appeared that she now possessed increased intelligence, strength, speed, reaction speed, memory, along with several other aspects. That wasn't all, however, as she apparently had more of the Emperor's genes than the Primarchs themselves, which meant that she was a perpetual, just like her now biological father.

This meant that Mal had regenerative powers that would basically let her make a full recovery from any attack in seconds, not to mention the second part of the mutation, which would revive her instantly after death. It was a ridiculously broken ability.

This had been a big shock to Mal, as it was revealed that she could never die. However, she treated this information with mixed feelings. She had watched enough anime to know that immortality was possibly a curse in disguise.

The Emperor, who had experienced the curse for himself, had already prepared a solution for this.

It happened three days after Mal was summoned to the Warp…

Mal had just returned to the Emperor's house after another bout of training. She had somehow been able to repeatedly hit bullseyes on the target from a whole mile away with a bolter that felt as if it weighed the same as a feather with absolutely no recoil.

It was her first time touching a firearm in her life and she was able to easily observe every detail on the target from her shooting distance. Obviously, the gun had no scope whatsoever.

Mal later found out that the gun weighed several tons with recoil that could have shattered a concrete wall.

The Emperor's gene-seed certainly worked wonders.

Slightly exhausted, Mal joined the Emperor at the dining table for a cup of coffee, starting a conversation with the coffee-drinking man.

"So, why don't you just kill yourself and revive? If you can bring me from a whole other universe than doing something so simple should be easy right?"

The Emperor sighed.

"If it was only that simple. If I actually die, then I'll lose consciousness for a few seconds before my revival is complete. If I do that, then the influence of the Chaos gods will spread to all humanity, corrupting most of the species. I'm constantly holding all four of them off so something like that doesn't happen. It would only take a second for them to take advantage of my absence."

Mal frowned in confusion.

"Wait, can't they just hold Chaos off with their own willpower? They all believe in you after all."

The Emperor shook his head.

"The Chaos gods take power from the Imperium just as much as it does from everything else. Every time someone fights for vengeance or falls into a state of bloodlust, they're empowering Khorne. Every time anyone has any sexual thoughts, they're empowering Slaanesh. Every time someone changes in any way, they're empowering Tzeench. Chaos is more powerful than most would think. It wouldn't be too much work to take over a few trillion minds if all four of them join forces. They're powered by every sentient species in the galaxy after all."

Mal covered her face with both of her hands.

"Jeez, they're that powerful? You've really got a lot on your hands then."

"Yes. Yes, I do, which is precisely why I need your help."

Mal snorted.

"Don't remind me."

The Emperor looked at her seriously with a hint of remorse on his face.

"As a parent, I'm really sorry for having you do this Mal, but you're my only hope."

The girl blushed and began to wave her arms frantically.

"Whoa whoa! Who said I would acknowledge you as my father?!"

However, Mal suddenly felt something warm deep inside of her because of that statement. Perhaps it was longing, longing for a parental figure she never had.

The Emperor chuckled at this.

"You don't have to, but I'll always see you as a daughter."

Mal's blush became even more defined as she bashing looked away, much to the amusement to her now self-proclaimed father.

Speaking in a small and vulnerable voice, Mal had the last word.

"Just don't expect me to call you 'dad'."

The Emperor simply smiled at this.

**Several Minutes Later**

The room was filled with uncomfortable silence as Mal was stuck in a world of her own thoughts while the Emperor simply sipped his coffee, staring at her.

Breaking her out of her thoughts, he was the first one to destroy the silence.

"I have something I must speak to you about Mal."

The girl turned her head in his direction.

"What is it?"

The Emperor set down his cup and stared into his daughter's eyes.

"Please, I urge you to become immortal.

Mal's eyes widened.

"What are you talking about? Aren't I already immortal thanks to your genes?"

"Not in the truest sense of the word."

Sighing in remorse, perhaps even in shame, the Emperor admitted his faults.

"Even I am not truely immortal Mal. Millenium of ruling and superiority to my subjects changed me for the worse. I became arrogant, self-righteous, and completely unresponsive to the opinions of others. The same can be said for my sons. It is because of age that we fell into the situation we are in right now."

Suddenly, a large clay pot appeared in the Emperor's hands, the contents hidden by a cap.

Whatever was in the pot radiated a sense of… strangeness that Mal was unable to name.

Uncapping the pot, the Emperor poured the strange green liquid inside into three shot glasses he conjured. It had the same viscosity as water, flowing into the glasses easily without resistance.

The smell of the liquid, again, could not be put into words for Mal, as she had never smelled anything remotely close to it before.

"Umm… What is that?"

The Emperor smiled pleasantly.

"This is an elixir I acquired from a land far far away. A brilliant nurse decided to give me this miracle potion at the cost of a small favor."

Mal glanced at the shot glasses.

"And this elixir grants immortality?"

The Emperor's smile became wider.

"Yes. Immortality in the truest sense of the word. The first sip grants eternal youth, the second sip bestows a body free of imperfection, and the third sip causes the drinker to become a true immortal."

Mal groaned.

"Where did you even find something like this!?"

"I acquired it using a small amount of power I amassed a long time ago. I was saving it for this occasion."

Mal furrowed her brows.

"What do you mean by true immortality?"

The Emperor explained in a cheerful tone.

"The third sip frees the drinker from many of the constraints or reality. You'll be free from concepts like death and manipulation. Moreover, your mental state will also become immortal, meaning that you will never feel tired or anything like that, as you'll be independent of the concept known as exhaustion."

Mal suddenly brought up her right hand to hold her chin, her browls furrowed.

"Hmm… I think I heard of this elixir before. Where… Where have I seen something like this…?"

Three seconds later, Mal lept up from her chair, pointing at the Emperor unconsciously.

"EHHH?! HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET INTO THAT UNIVERSE?! MORE IMPORTANTLY, HOW DID YOU GET THAT MOON NURSE TO ACTUALLY HAND OVER _THAT _ELIXIR?!"

The Emperor gestured for Mal to calm down, something she complied with seconds later.

Sitting back onto her chair, the girl composed herself.

The Emperor coughed into his hand.

"The issue of how I entered that sealed off land aside, will you drink the elixir Mal? I will not force you to if you do not wish for it."

The girl facepalmed, deciding to simply accept the truth for what it was. He was the Emperor after all. It probably wasn't even hard for him to get into _that _place.

More importantly, did she want to drink the ****** elixir?

The answer to that would obviously be yes. After all, she was already immortal wasn't she? There was nothing to lose, and plenty to gain. The regeneration from the potion was probably going to be redundant, as her perpetual genes already had it covered. Same with the resurrection. However, it was the independence from manipulation and mental exhaustion that was truly appealing. After all, this could mean that Mal would become immune to the whispers of the warp gods, not to mention being completely exhausted. She would be able to endure anything for an unlimited amount of time, nothing truly taking a toll on her.

At least, that was how she hoped the elixir worked. The exact details were not defined in the lore of _that _franchise after all.

Mal quickly asked the Emperor a question she desperately needed to.

"Will this elixir make me immune to the whispers of the warp gods, or will I still have to watch out for them?"

The Emperor hummed in thought.

"Hmm, I'm not sure. Theoretically, you'll be immune to the honeyed words and physic seduction. Whether you conform to them is still your decision though. It would be like a normal person trying to convince you only with their words, no other factors added."

Mal nodded.

"I see."

Grabbing the glasses of elixir, she drank them one at a time, making sure not to leave a single drop of the valuable liquid in the cups. Strangely, it had no taste even though it emitted a strange scent.

A few seconds later, Mal's body began to glow as an incredibly warm feeling flooded her body. She could only close her eyes as the sensation took her over.

If Mal's physique could be said to be perfect before, it was completely perfect now. Her entire body rearranged itself to become the embodiment of perfection, giving off the image of a goddess to all who saw her. She could be said to be an unnatural beauty.

However, these changes were expected, so neither of the two inhabitances of the house made any fuss about it. Mal did not have a mirror so she could not realize her own beauty at this point.

After a few moments of silence, Mal walked outside the house, the Emperor following her. She wished to test her regeneration, as well as build up her pain resistance. If she was really going to be living in the Warhammer 40k universe, she couldn't afford to be scared of a little pain.

Closing her eyes to the world of absolute white around her, the girl took a relaxed breath, preparing for what she was about to do next.

"_I know that I have to test out my regenerative abilities, but am I actually a masochist for doing this? Oh well, it's going to help me in the long run, so I just have to grit my teeth and deal with it."_

Letting out her breath, Mal suddenly opened her eyes and drove a fist into her ribs.

The Emperor simply looked on expressionlessly in a corner. He had probably read Mal's mind to scry for the reasons for her current actions, apparently supporting them judging by the fact that he didn't stop her.

To say that it hurt would be a grave understatement. It felt like Mal's whole rib cage had just been pulverized into fine dust, which wasn't too far away from what actually happened.

Coughing out a mouthful of blood, the girl attempted to cradle her now shattered ribs in agony.

"_OH NO OH NO OH NO THIS WAS SUCH A BAD IDEA! WHY THE HELL DID I DO THIS?! JEEZUS IT HURTS SO MUUUUUUCH!" _

However, soon these thoughts passed as the pain all but faded away in but a second.

The ribcage instantly healed as if nothing had happened to it, returning Mal's body back to its perfect condition.

Mal gazed down at her chest with eyes full of wonder, as the pain had passed.

She was speechless at this. After all, it was one thing to know about it, and another to actually experience it.

However, the Emperor's next words surprised her, something that he was uncannily good at doing.

He wore a bewildered expression befitting of a scientist whose experiment yielded unexpected results. In a shocked voice, he asked,

"It stacked?"

Mal turned to look at the Emperor, wide-eyed.

"Come again?"

**Present Time**

Apparently, the regenerative effects of the elixir did not simply coexist with Mal's natural regeneration, instead increasing it. This double regeneration was practically a foolproof armor against just about any kind of opponent. After all, with the combined regenerations of the mutation and elixir, even the most grievous of injuries would be healed in seconds.

Moreover, she now had complete immunity from the degrading seduction of Chaos which was the most lethal thing to beings like her.

Mal had certainly became overpowered, hadn't she?

Other than this, however, the Emperor had deemed Mal's power to be inadequate, continuing to train her.

It took two whole years for the girl to finally move on to her psyker training, as the Emperor deemed her inadequate before.

Apparently, he put an unconscious seal on her psychic powers so that they would not spiral out of control.

The girl possessed a fraction of his great power after all. There was no way she would be able to control it instantly.

He completely sealed off her clairvoyance, however, as that ability was one of the main aspects which led to his own downfall.

If someone is able to foresee the future, then they will stop living in the present, instead finding measures to change that future. Such a thing is the height of hubris, and will completely separate the user from the other beings who live in the present.

Unfortunately for Mal, arrogance was a disease that even someone like her could be subjected to. She knew this, accepting the seal with no resistance.

The girl had grown to trust her new father. Besides, there was a ridiculous amount of movies and games which showed the same thing the Emperor said. This was more than enough for her to forsake whatever cool future powers she could have.

That kind of power isn't worth distancing yourself from everyone else.

The Emperor expected more resistance from his daughter at this. After all, not many humans had the wisdom and self-restraint to turn away from any sort of power. Then again, this was Mal. She was definitely not a normal person, unsuited to be in the same category as them.

Thus began Mal's training as a psyker, by far the most difficult part of it.

She quickly became adept in pyromancy, able to control and create golden flames with ease. It only took a month for her to be able to create massive fire tornadoes and control them at will.

The same could be said for telekinesis and daemonology. She was soon able to lift hundred of tons with her mind, teleport miles away, and shoot flesh-rending living lightning from her hands.

Mal could enhance her own ability with the power of the warp so it would be bettered a hundredfold.

However, to the girl, divination and telepathy were extremely difficult. Maybe it was because of the strangeness of the concepts to her, or maybe it was the frightening feeling of omniscience she knew she would have if she used them. It was either due to lack of talent or a subconscious rejection that Mal could not fully embrace the powers of those aspects.

Maybe she was inadequate in divination because of the seal the Emperor placed on her clairvoyance.

Whatever the cause of the matter was, it would not be removed anytime soon.

Seeing this, the Emperor lessened the training of those aspects, instead focusing on the more physical side of Mal's powers.

Who knows? Mal's inadequacy in those factors may be a blessing in discuise.

After all, the ability to manipulate the minds of others and the ability to gain instant premonitions to the results of a battle were much more arrogance-instilling than manipulation of physical matter.

No one would know this better than the Emperor, who fell to that same arrogance.

Therefore, he was almost relieved when Mal showed no signs of genius in those aspects.

Everything was going according to plan.

If he wasn't sure before, then he was definitely sure now.

Mal would be the one to save humanity from all the threats of the unforgiving galaxy.

**If you know what series the elixir is from then kudos to you**

**Anyways, to those of you that say that I shouldn't have added the elixir in the story, I just felt like I had to**

**I'm not going to write a story where Mal just dominates the whole galaxy in a hundred years or something, because that would be way way way too unrealistic, even for someone like me **

**I want to make her fit into the Warhammer 40k universe, but I also don't want her to conform to it too much**

**I mean, come on, who wants to read a story where another stereotypical 40k character fights stuff? That's for the crossover section**

**This was why I added the elixir, so Mal wouldn't change too much mentally by the harshness of 40k**

**This was the best plot device I could think of**

**To the people who say the Emperor wouldn't be strong enough to pull things from another universe or to make another Primarch with it, then I'll just say that he became more powerful after 10,000 years since it's basically confirmed by cannon that his power grows over time**


	3. Revelations

She had lived with the Emperor, fully taking on the role of his daughter. It wasn't difficult for the man to get into Mal's heart as a combination of familial longing and loneliness subconsciously lowered her defenses for this kind of thing.

Eventually, she stopped resisting the longing in her heart, embracing the idea of the Emperor as a parental figure. After the time she accidentally called the Emperor "dad", there was no way going back.

How could she resist the urge? It was near impossible as the Emperor somehow managed to become the ideal figure of a father to her. Stern but kind, strict but fair.

The man was always patient with her as they trained, never showing any anger at the things she did wrong, only telling her where to improve. Even though he would accept nothing but the best, he still readily gave praise when it was due.

Also, headpats. The extremely comfortable and warmth instilling headpats.

Mal formed something akin to an addiction to the gesture of affection, striving to improve in her training even more as to earn the warm reward. Mal as she was now needed no sleep or nourishment, so she spent all of her time training or thinking.

Over the years they spent together, Mal obtained a better grasp of her father's personality, seeing not a former conqueror of worlds, but a remorseful old man.

**Mal POV**

It was break time, the girl resting on a chair in the dining room, the Emperor sitting in front of her, sipping from a cup of coffee.

This took place during Mal's fourth year of training, where she had finally started addressing the Emperor as "dad".

Wanting to break the silence, she asked,

"So, Dad, according to my sources, you weren't exactly the caring type. What caused you to change so much?"

Mal's tone towards her father could be assumed to be uncaring if you didn't know her. She didn't hold back on asking some rude and sometimes even insensitive questions.

However, this was because she was too close to her father for a few simple words to degrade their relationship. Besides, the man was not the Emperor of all mankind for nothing. He would not be hurt by a small number of words that are not even specifically used to harm him.

Therefore, Mal always used an insensitive tone to speak to him unless she saw that he was in need of emotional support. He was still human after all.

The Emperor's eyes widened in surprise, a rare event.

"Mal, what made you bring up a subject like this?"

The girl was now drumming the table with her fingers, staring downwards, as if without a care in the world.

"Well, I've been thinking. The 'you' from my sources was an arrogant man who thought that everything he did was for the best and never let anyone help him. Moreover, the things you did to your sons were harsh at best, merciless at worst. You weren't really the ideal father figure you know."

The Emperor sighed in sadness, looking downwards.

"But, the 'you' right now is obviously not like that. I mean, you actually felt remorseful that you dragged me here without my approval. Even more importantly, you haven't been treating me like some sort of tool for your schemes, more like an actual daughter"

Mal smiled.

"I never had a dad before this, but I'm really glad that you're the one I got."

The girl then stared at her father's face with understanding and a touch of remorse. She hadn't been thinking at all when she asked that question.

"Nevermind. You don't have to answer that if you don't want to. It doesn't matter. You are the 'you' now, not whoever you were before. That's all I really need to know. Sorry, I wasn't thinking when I asked that."

Mal then stood up, walking towards the door to continue her training.

She was stopped by the words of the Emperor, stern, but strangely pleading in a way.

"Mal, it is fine. I need to get this off of my chest."

Looking back, the girl smiled compassionately before taking a seat once again.

One of Mal's special quirks was the rapid changing of her personality. She could move from being cold and uncaring to warm and compassionate, surprisingly childish to stoic sternness, in the blink of an eye. All it took was the right trigger.

In this case, the trigger was the feelings of her father, which she knew were hurt because of his past actions. Atfet all, there was no way he wouldn't after changing so much. Ten thousand years was a long time after all.

Taking a deep breath with his eyes closed, the Emperor prepared himself to finally speak the words that would release him of a great burden.

"Back during the events of my rise of power, I became arrogant, cruel even. I had mastery over clairvoyance, with the power to see into all the possibilities of the future. Moreover, I was commonly regarded as a genius, my intellect surpassing all in the Imperium. Therefore, I saw everyone else as untrustworthy, inferior creatures that had to be lead by my loving hand."

He sighed, bringing a hand up to his face.

"Oh, how wrong I was. It was because of this that my empire fell. I could never even find it in my heart to love my sons, who gave so much for my sake, seeing them as simple pawns in a game. I used the excuse 'it's all for the sake of humanity' to justify my actions to myself, which ultimately covered up my guilt."

Laughing bitterly, the Emperor continued.

"I honestly can't blame them for betraying me. Looking back, the entire Horus Heresy was undebatably my fault. If I treated them more like my children, then I might have been able to save them from their fates."

The Emperor slumped in his chair tiredly.

"Now, it's far too late. Half of them have already turned to chaos, and some are even dead."

Looking at Mal with apologetic eyes, the Emperor practically spoke with a softer tone.

"This is why I have need of you Mal. I won't try to sugarcoat it. I'm using you to fix my own mistakes because I can't."

He was prepared for harsh words, even a refusal of his mission. However, it would be better than the alternative. The Emperor knew for a fact that trying to manipulate his children like machines was never a good idea. Therefore, it would be much better if he could get everything in the open before it was too late.

At this, Mal sighed in slight annoyance.

"I knew that about a day after you summoned me here you know, Dad. It wasn't exactly hidden. I know a lot of things that would be considered secret you know."

Then, the girl looked to her father with compassionate eyes, smiling with happiness.

"But still, I made up my mind to fight for you already, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. It just makes me really happy to see that you've changed. I'm sure some of my brothers would forgive you if they saw you right now."

A proud smile lit up the tired face of the man, glad that he had chosen someone like Mal for a daughter.

"I'm sure that they would be proud to have a little sister like you."

At this, Mal began to blush heavily, looking away bashfully. Ince the girl never truly had a family, she was somewhat obsessed with the idea of it. As soon as she accepted the fact that he was the Emperor's daughter, she automatically made the connection that all the Primarchs were her big brothers and the Astartes were all her nephews. She couldn't wait for the day where she could actually meet them.

It was quite a big stretch, but Mal was somewhat desperate in the familial region.

"Y-you think so? They're Primarchs you know. That's quite a high standard to live up to."

The Emperor simply laughed at this.

"They might not recognize you at first, but they will definitely accept you once you've shown your true nature.

A differentiation could not be made between Mal's face and a ripe tomato at that moment, even more so when the Emperor rose from his seat and patted her head in cheerful gratitude.

**Later that day**

After another session of training, a slightly stronger Mal sat with her father on the dining table once more.

Gazing at his coffee-sipping form, she asked,

"Dad, remember the discussion I had with you earlier today?"

The Emperor raised an eyebrow before taking another sip.

"Yes?"

Mal sighed.

"I think it's better to just get everything in the open now. You said it yourself, didn't you? Can you just tell me everything else you've been hiding from me?"

Sweatdropping, the Emperor almost regretted granting Mal his intelligence boosting gene-seed at that moment. Looking away, he carefully said,

"Well… I wasn't really hidin-"

Mal interrupted.

"It's fine. Just tell me everything. Please."

The girl truly wanted everything out in the open. She trusted him with all her heart at this point, but it was obvious that he was still hiding at least one more secret.

The Emperor shook his head in defeat before speaking nervously.

"Well, I umm… I might have used my powers to influence your parents to name you after my friend after you were born."

Expecting a vicious response, he visibly winced in anticipation, which made it extremely surprising to him when Mal simply sighed.

"Malcador, right? Wasn't he your primary advisor?"

The Emperor nodded.

"That, and the only one I could truly call a friend. He was the person I respected more than anyone else."

Mal raised an eyebrow.

"Would that make him something like a godfather to me then?"

Furrowing his brows as if in thought, the Emperor answered.

"Yes, I guess it does."

Mal looked to her father, half amused.

"I suppose that you thought that I would be mad?"

The Emperor did not respond to this.

"First of all, I never really knew my parents, which means that I have no idea who they actually are and could care less now that I have you. Secondly, I've already acknowledged you as my father, meaning that I really don't mind that you were the one who gave me my name before my actual parents."

Mal chuckled lightly.

"Besides, it's a good name."

The Emperor let out a relieved smile, thankful for the accepting nature of his daughter.

However, the girl's tone then became scolding after she realized what the Emperor's actions meant.

"Wait a minute… wait, wait, wait. You mean to tell me… that you wasted a portion of your stored powers just to name me?"

Mal's eye was twitching harshly now, making the Emperor rub his head in embarrassment.

"Umm… Yes?"

Mal was beginning to lose composure.

'Why. Why would you use the precious power that you stored up for something like that?"

The Emperor laughed nervously.

"Well, I guess you can say… personal preference?"

Mal's eyebrow began to twitch even faster than before. The Emperor wondered if she would actually explode at that moment.

However, in an instant, all the anger dissipated as Mal simply sighed.

"Well, whatever. You're only human after all. I guess you do have the freedom to do something like this."

Again, the Emperor was really glad he chose Mal as his daughter, if not for her open mind and a tendency to accept things easily, then her great kindness and forgiving nature.

However, he then dropped another bombshell.

"Oh, and I also added another organ in your body to act as a gene-seed factory."

Mal's face was too shocked to form any actual expression.

"Eh?"

**Narrator POV**

The Emperor had become something akin to a warp god after being worshipped by trillions of humans for over ten thousands of years, whether he liked it or not.

However, he was still constricted to the Golden Throne as all four gods of chaos focused a great deal of their power on attacking him at the same time.

He had to focus most of his attention on fending off their corrupting offense, still unable to block all of it, however. This is shown in the form of chaos worshipping heretics in the Imperium. Even so, if the Emperor was not defending all of humanity from chaos, then all of the weak-willed humans, psyker or not, would be corrupted.

However, even when he was fighting such a taxing battle, he was still able to use a minuscule amount of his powers to send his own versions of warp daemons and daemon princes to the aid of his worshippers, not to mention temporary blessings which aided them in battle.

The daemons in the Emperor's disposal usually took the form of the Legion of the Dammed, souls of long dead space marines reshaped by the Emperor to serve the Imperium once again, or the Living Saints, heroes of great faith and strength, reincarnated by the Emperor as some of the greatest of his daemons, appearing in times of great need with their magnificent powers.

Moreover, the Emperor, with his newfound powers, was also able to erect what could be called a special afterlife for all humans if the Imperium. It was a sanctuary in the warp for all the souls of the dead humans who had not turned to chaos, as their souls would forever be lost to the other four warp gods.

This sanctuary had several levels, one for regular citizens, who would live in the lowest one, forever in a bettered parody of their old daily lives.

Level two was reserved for the countless unnamed soldiers who fell in battle, a paradise where they could live out the rest of their days in relative peace.

Level three was for the most loyal faithful of the humans in the Imperium, such as Astartes space marines and death corps Kreigsmen. Transformed into something akin to lesser daemons, they would forever battle the forces of chaos inside of the warp itself.

Finally, level four was reserved for only the most valiant and noble of the human species. It was where the deceased Primarchs, Living Saints, and the souls of famous heroes and commanders resided in. Some of them are sent down into realspace to aid the Imperials in losing battles.

This was all the Emperor could do with his limited prowess, as his soul remained confined in the rotting carcass which was strapped to the throne.

If given the time to regenerate, that same body would become a worthy vessel for the god of humans, as it possessed the perpetual gene, along with his previous psychic influence.

If it was that body, then he would be able to fit a large part of his soul, if not all of it, inside.

If this indeed happened, then the Imperium of Mal would become an unstoppable force. After all, the Emperor was much more powerful than before, having his power boosted by both his growth and the amount of faith delivered to him.

The Chaos gods knew this of course, which was why they were ready to strike as soon as the Emperor began his resurrection, which would temporarily make him unable to fight them. Using those precious seconds, the Chaos gods would quickly spread their influence to all of the Imperium, converting most of the humans to their faith, boosting their own power and draining the Emperor's.

The Emperor also knew of their plan, which was why he had not already begun the resurrection process.

When this battle of wits was continuing however, the Tyranids were not quiet.

They had come to this galaxy simply because the other ones they had invaded had all ran out of biomatter, every single molecular particle of the material under the control of the alien locusts.

Currently, their scouting party was still testing the defenses of this new galaxy, but when they were finished, the real army would come. Several million if not billions of planets' worth of Tyranids would appear in this galaxy, their endless hunger for new bio-matter unceasing.

The scouting party's forces were a simple fraction of the true Tyranid Hivemind's strength. This was understandable.

The Tyranids showing their true strength at the moment would be akin to a scouting force of guardsmen bring thousands of Leman Russ tanks.

The Silent King Szarekh had the right idea. Instead of Chaos or the Necrons, the most threatening enemies of the whole Milky Way was instead the Tyranids.

If nothing changed in the galaxy, then the true Tyranid army would find themselves in a place where the inhabitants feuded with each other, a place perfect for them to simply swoop in and claim all that delicious bio-matter for themselves.

As they were, none of the powers in the Milky Way galaxy would stand a chance against the oncoming tide of destruction.

Not the arrogant Aledari.

Not the stagnated Imperium.

Not the inexperienced Tau.

Not the brainless Orks.

Not the limited Necrons.

Not the hedonistic Drukhari

Not even the dreaded forces of Chaos.

No matter how powerful each of these factions thought they were, the truth was that individually, they stood no chance against the Tyranids. But they either didn't know that or was too busy bashing each others' skulls in to actually think about it.

As things stood, the inhabitants of the Milky Way would be unable to fend off the endless waves of the devourers. Not even close.

Quoting the words of a wise man from a universe far far away,

"_**They are not prepared."**_

**Yeah, I had to do a little bit of world-building here**

**A lot of 40k lore is either unexplained or contradicts itself, so I had to make some assumptions and implement some theories in here**

**I know that Mal's character development here seems too fast, but I really didn't want to write a ten chapters' worth of slice of life, not for a 40k fanfic at least**


	4. The First Appearance

**PM me or wait for the fans of **_**that**_ **franchise if you want to know where the immortality elixir is from**

**Narrator POV**

Mal had essentially become what Horus had for Chaos. She was now the Emperor's most favored champion, granted blessings by the god of humans himself.

Akin to the sorcery used by worshippers of the warp gods, Mal gained unique psychic abilities granted by her faith in her father. Unlike the regular psyker, who were able to manipulate arcane azure energy, all of Mal's abilities were a shade of majestic gold, from her flames to her lightning. All of these powers shone with the radiance of the Emperor.

The fact that she was the Emperor's own flesh and blood helped her case tremendously.

Granted, her faith for the Emperor wasn't like what most others in the Imperium had. After all, what daughter could truly worship the man who she considered father?

No, Mal's faith was more familiar, more personal. She believed that her father was a kind and gentle soul who wished for the best of her and the rest of her fellow humans. The pure strength of this faith increased the powers of her abilities tenfold.

However, even if that power was not enough, the girl could always pray to her father. After all, just the act of praying increased someone's faith, at least temporarily, especially if the one who was praying believed in the words they spoke. Mal could always simply get a large boost of psychic power if she simply uttered some simple words of prayer. She had to put all of her heart into them of course.

**Mal POV**

It had been a long ten years since the Emperor first summoned Mal to the 40k universe. The girl had undergone massive changes under this time, physically and mentally.

She now possessed strength on the level of a Primarch, if not surpassing them, coupled with an extremely high level of intelligence, which included a close to perfect memory with an almost infinite amount of storage along with a thinking speed which was at a ridiculous level, not to mention the ability to easily multitask, not even mentioning the countless psychic abilities she had under her disposal.

But most of all, Mal now possessed true immortality, a ridiculous regeneration strength, immunity to all poisons and disease, and the ability to live just fine without things like food, water, or even oxygen.

To simply put it, the daughter of the Emperor was truly overpowered indeed.

She could be considered the most powerful psyker in the galaxy if you excluded the Emperor and Magnus the Red.

Thanks to the elixir, Mal would live forever but lost the ability to truly mature, which was just fine with her. The only thing someone could mature into in the 40k universe was either a demented cultist or a disciplined soldier, neither of which looked very welcoming to the girl.

Eventually, The Emperor felt as if Mal was ready for the cruel world she was going to be thrust into, thus ending her training after ten years of strenuous training.

For anyone else, that wouldn't be nearly enough time to gain complete mastery over every weapon and control over psychic powers, but for Mal, who could now learn even the most complicated of things in an instant, it was.

As the Emperor told Mal this, she was slightly distraught. After all, once she was out there, there would be no contact with him. Sure, Mal knew this would come eventually, but it hit her harder than she would have thought.

Even so, she accepted this duty gladly, ready to finally make her appearance in the darkness of realspace.

**Moment of Departure**

Mal faced the Emperor sadly, her expression slightly wavering.

"So this is goodbye then?"

The Emperor nodded solemnly.

"Yes. You will not be able to see or hear me for a while now Mal."

The girl chuckled with apparent sadness, clutching at her heart with one hand as if in pain.

"I knew this day would come, but that really doesn't make it hurt any less."

The Emperor sighed.

"I know Mal. I know, and I'm sorry. Just know that I will be watching over you. Always."

Mal smiled at this, wiping a tear away from her eye.

"You always know just the right words to say, don't you, Dad?"

The Emperor smiled wryly.

"It is time Mal."

The girl stilled, closing her eyes in anticipation of whatever was to come. She was not informed of how she would be sent off, expecting something like being thrown through a portal.

However, instead of being thrown through a portal, Mal was instead patted on the head gently by the Emperor, causing her to open her eyes in shock.

The man smiled at his daughter sadly, saying his last goodbyes.

"Be safe Mal."

Then, Mal saw only gold.

"_Heh, good one Dad. Like that's actually possible now."_

**Valerian POV**

His name was Valerian Dominique Maximus Primus, shield-captain of the Adeptus Custodes, the guardians of the Emperor. Known as a brother to many, an untouchable demigod to countless more.

Before he joined Roboute Guilliman in his crusade, the shield captain was just another custodian, guarding the Imperial Palace for ten thousand years. However, he was just an average individual amongst his brothers, no worthy achievements for all ten millennia of his life.

This changed, however, when he fought in the crusade. He earned more than a little recognition by his peers and betters, fighting with such vigor and bravery that the Primarch himself complimented the guard grandly.

For such ability in combat, the custodian was rewarded with the title of Shield-Captain and the honor of laying eyes upon the body of the Emperor himself, a reward that was unheard of, offered only to the most faithful of the Custodes. However, an exception was made, as the higher-ups saw much potential in the Shield-Captain, willing to let him see the Emperor, if only for a short time.

Such was his purpose today, walking into the forbidden throne room, accompanied by the current Captain-General of the custodians, Trajann Valoris.

Normally, the leader of the custodians wouldn't be bothered to waste his time with such things, but today was a good day. Things were relatively peaceful, and he wasn't particularly busy at the moment. There was nothing wrong with personally showing one of his brothers the brilliant glory that was the Emperor. They were brothers after all, even if Trajann didn't show his affections much.

Valerian cradled his long golden helmet in one hand, revealing a well-toned young face with blond hair and light blue eyes. He wore the same set of armor that he always did for the past ten thousand years, the golden artifact worth the bounty of a whole planet. It might have been handcrafted by himself, but it really wasn't that much different than all the other armors of his brethren. A short power sword hanged by his side, a worthy sidearm.

Almost to the majestic door which led to the chamber where the Emperor lay, the captain-general asked Valerian,

"How long has it been since you have laid eyes upon the greatness of the Emperor, brother?"

Valerian replied, almost longingly. He truly wished to see the Emperor again, even if he was a shell of his former self. He wished to see that great being who inspired him to become the best custodian, no, the best human he could be.

"It has been over ten thousand years."

Trajann smiled. It was the same for him too. A truly long ten thousand years indeed.

As the custodians finally approached the golden gates which led to the Emperor's throne, the captain-general became serious.

With a massive sound akin to the release of a great amount of steam, the gigantic double-doors opened, revealing the inside of the golden throne room.

As the two warriors walked into the room, Trajann addressed his brother, who was stunned by the sight of the decaying corpse of the once great man to even see anything else in the room, completely ignoring the majestic golden carvings and portraits on the grand walls.

For the Emperor of all mankind sat upon the grotesque throne, decorated by the skulls of the worthy. His frail and weak body, a pale reflection of its previous muscular structure, was connected to the seat crudely by ancient machinery, sacred treasures which the tech-priests themselves were barely able to understand. A faint heartbeat could be detected by the light, barely noticeable movements of his skeletal chest region.

For a dedicated servant of the master of mankind, it truly was heartbreaking for Valerian to see his lord like this. He had lost brothers to the foul daemons of chaos, suffered grievous injuries at the hands of heretics and warp-spawn alike, but he was never so close to shedding tears in any moment of his life.

He was just an unnoticeable custodian after all. He was never granted the honor of seeing the Emperor before. Valerian had somewhat expected this of course, but to see it in person was much more excruciating than whatever he could prepare for.

Beside the Golden Throne, a lone tech-priest fiddled with the intricate designs of the ancient device.

With a red-clad body which was mainly composed of cybernetics, the being resembled a human anymore, gunmetal grey tentacles acting as extra hands for his work. Two crimson sensors which served for eyes seemingly shown with a great sense of urgency and panic, as if frightened by something.

The priest's intricate and complex staff lay on the floor next to him, as if completely forgotten.

This strange combination of man and machine was named Archmagos Delta Arator, an influential and renowned man in the society of Mars.

Both Valerian and Trajann instantly knew the reason for the tech-priest's panic. After all, they were the Emperor's own custodians. They knew full well that the Golden Thorne was failing and that their Imperium did not have any methods to stop the device's decadence.

Everyone could only hope that they would be able to discover the technology required to prolong the life-support of the Emperor, less the Imperium falls into ruin.

Ignoring the busy tech-priest, who did not even notice their presence in his feverish work, Trajann spoke to Valerian, gesturing to the throne with a hand.

"Behold, Valerian, of our greatest failure. The decaying body of our master is the physical evidence of our most unforgivable crime. This happened because we were unable to protect him, and now, the Emperor himself along with every human in the Imperium is paying for our lack of ability."

Those words seemed to ring in the horrified brain of the shield-captain, forever ingraining themselves into his memory. Those words would serve to haunt him for the rest of his life. After all, everything Trajann was true, brutally so.

Sensing the woe of his brother, the captain-general placed a hand upon Valerian's shoulder in a comforting gesture, his expression and tone softening.

"This is why we must fight Valerian, this is why we must spend every last second of our existence to repent for this vile crime we have committed. We, the Custodians, were created for the sole purpose of defending the Emperor to the last man, a task we failed spectacularly in. There can be no redemption for us, my brother. But we can at least spend the remainder of our lives in his service. That is the best we can do now."

Valerian could only nod, a wave of guilt never seen before surging through him. Could he have saved his master? If he was simply stronger, then at the flagship, he could have possibly arrived at the Emperor's side, perhaps even blocking that horrid strike of Horus which incapacitated his master with his own body. But no, he remained weak, locked in combat with the hateful forces of chaos while he should have been aiding his lord.

Trajann had become quiet, tilting his head downwards. Valerian had no doubt that his captain-general shared the same thoughts as he.

The two guardians simply stood there before their Emperor, reminiscing, while the cybernetic tinkering of the magos could be heard in the background.

**Mal POV**

Suddenly, the world wasn't completely golden anymore, showing a myriad of colors which Mal was relieved to see.

However, she soon became confused, as she could not confirm her current location.

While not everything was golden anymore, most of it indeed was.

Mal seemed to be inside of a large room, a really well-decorated and expensive one at that. The ridiculously intricate carvings of eagles on the walls gave that away instantly.

"_Just where am I?"_

Then, she noticed the two gold-armored pointing their weapons at her, an axe and spear, with apprehensive and surprised looks on their war-torn faces.

It took less than a second for Mal to realize where she was, and just who exactly these gold-armored men were, another two for the girl to turn around and see the body of her dying father and the tech-priest who was staring at her with evident shock in his shining ruby eyes.

The Emperor had shown Mal the true state of his body many times in their time together but seeing it made her heart waver every time. After all, no daughter could simply shrug off the sight of their father in this state.

Therefore, she moved forward to take a better look at the skeletal face of the Emperor.

At this point, the Magos had abandoned his work, aiming his staff at Mal as if it were a spear. Sparks of cackling electricity snaking around the tip.

However, Mal did not seem to see any of this, completely ignoring the threats around her and continuing to approach the throne.

She did not even notice the vicious sound of the

"Halt!"

from Trajann's mouth, focused only on the broken form of her father, as if entranced.

Her hand swiftly caught the bolter round fired from Valerian's guardian spear, the bolt exploding in her gloved hand, her expression unchanging.

Ah, yes. She seemed to be dressed in a strange military outfit straight from some unnamed Terran war.

With a light gold Comissar cap which had a large dark gold Aquila symbol at the front and an even lighter gold making up the bottom of it, Mal also seemed to wear a cape with the same shade of light gold as a large cape, linked by the image of a golden skull.

Under the cape, she wore a buttoned military vest and pants, the same shade of gold as the top of her cap.

Mal's legs seemed to be protected by solid, light gold metal boots and grieves, again, with the Aquila symbol on top.

Lastly, she seemed to wear light gold military gloves, so light that she didn't even notice its presence until she actually saw it.

A thin golden chainsword hung from her belt, probably a power weapon judging by the intricate designs on it. A golden laspistol was holstered on the other end, practically begging for its great power to be unleashed in battle.

(Oda Nobunaga outfit from Fate franchise with a different color scheme and symbols)

That seemed to apply for all of Mal's clothes. No matter how thick they were, they were always so comfortable that they felt as if she was wearing nothing.

However, at this moment, Mal did not care about such things, nor the hostile custodians who shot at her. She had long since figured out where she was.

Finally reaching the throne, Mal's face became slightly pained, wincing at the soft, barely noticeable heartbeat of her father.

She truly wanted to touch the skeletal figure then, if nothing more than a gesture of affection.

Mal rose a hand to do so but quickly put it away. After all, the Emperor's body was too fragile for her to do such things.

She simply stared at it in silence while the rest of the inhabitants in the room remained tense and wary of her presence.

Until the voice of the Emperor himself reached out to everyone in the room that is.

**Valerian POV**

Just when Valerian was ready to finally leave the throne room, more determined in his cause than ever, a strange event occurred.

Suddenly, in a flash of blinding golden light, a girl who seemed as if she was sixteen to eighteen appeared in front of him.

Well, she wasn't a girl, more like a goddess. A goddess of war.

Dressed in an outfit that would shame even the most flamboyant of Commissars, the girl had simply materialized without warning.

With a fair face that would tug at the heartstrings of men and women alike, along with snow-white skin showing the greatest of purity, she had barely registered their prescence at all, clearly shown by her confused purple eyes.

Moreover, the aura permeating from the girl was strange, almost familiar in a way. It was as if there was a golden light emitting from her body itself, although that could just have been from the strange, golden material which made up her clothing.

A lesser man would have been instantly entranced by the girl's appearance, but Valerian was not a normal man. He was a custodian, a sworn protector of the Emperor. He would not allow this intruder to further defile the chamber of his lord, even though she strangely gave off an aura of peace and tranquility.

No, aiming his guardian spear at her, Valerian threatened to shoot the girl. Trajann was the same, brandishing his war axe threateningly.

They were both unsettled. They could tell that this being was not part of the ruinous powers instantly, her aura far too pure for that. Moreover, how could she get into the Imperial Palace unchecked? Not even the Eldar were capable of such a feat.

There was a possible explanation, somewhat plausible. The girl might have been some sort of champion or heald of the Emperor himself, here to deliver a message or to join them in battle.

The chances were low, but it was a possibility. However, if such a thing was true, then the very act of pointing their weapons at her was an act of heresy.

Valerian shuddered at the very thought of another sin upon the name of the custodians.

However, in this case, they had no choice. If the strange girl was indeed an agent of Xeno or Chaos forces, then allowing her presence in the throne room would be an even greater sin.

As the unknown being turned and started to make her way to the Golden Throne, Trajann gave an angered cry, the only barrier between them being the preservation of the room and the possibility that she was an agent of the Emperor.

"Halt!"

Aiming the Eagle's Scream bolter attachment on Watcher's Axe at the girl, the Commander-General snarled at the girl, realizing that his words had gone unheard.

However, he would not fire, for the Eagle's Scream was too destructive, its shrapnel possibly damaging the throne room.

Both of the custodians faced a great dilemma. Do they shoot the mysterious being in front of them who could possibly be an agent of the Emperor, or do they let it approach their lord, free to perform whatever unholy acts it sought to accomplish?

Both choices had a chance of being heresy. Death was too good for one who sought to do harm to the Emperor's champions. However, having their soul torn apart in the warp was too good for a custodian who would falter in their duty.

With a heavy heart, Valerian made his choice. Seeing this as a test from the Emperor, he chose the less sinful option of the two. He would eliminate the threat, even if it was indeed an angel in disguise.

Resolved, Valerian aimed the bolter attachment on his Guardian Spear at the girl, shooting before he could change his mind.

Somehow, he made this decision faster than Trajann himself, who both applauded and cursed Valerian, in praise at his quick decision-making, but in scolding of his possible heresy.

"_Emperor forgive me."_

Valerian thought this as the bolter round sped towards the girl, everything appearing to him in slow motion. It was akin to the phenomenon of having your life flashing before your eyes, which wouldn't be too inaccurate at this moment, for if he had just shot at one of the Emperor's angels, then death would be a mercy compared to what was in store for him.

Both Valerian and Trajann were surprised when the strange being simply caught the bolter round, snatching it out of the air as easily as a child would with a piece of paper. She didn't even look at it.

Then, the girl simply stood over the throne, as if paying respects to the body of the Emperor, her expression completely hidden.

It was too late to do anything more, for any more actions would endanger the body of the Emperor. The two custodians could only stand in tensed silence, awaiting what was to come.

The next few seconds were extremely painful, every millisecond feeling like whole hours for the two tensed custodians.

However, a voice instantly knocked them, and the girl, out of this state.

A voice the custodians knew too well.

After all, they would never forget the voice of the Emperor, the being they swore to serve with all their existence.

The Emperor's body began to glow with a gentle yellow light, a stern yet soft voice echoing in the minds of everyone present.

"**Captain-General Trajann ."**

The Captain-General, instantly adopting the stance of a professional, knelt down on one knee, his head lowered.

'Yes, my Emperor."

The Magos and Shield-Captain were both kneeling at this point, the only person who stood being the girl. They did not expect the Emperor to grace them with his holy words but were not about to act unprofessionally just because of it.

She simply widened her eyes, whispering in perfect High-Gothic.

"Dad?"

The voice was silken, sounds which would usually only be created by the greatest of musicians.

The Emperor continued to speak to everyone present, as if not noticing the girl's presence at all, causing a slight twitch in her eyebrow.

"**My time here is short, my custodians. Therefore, listen without fail."**

The girl seemed to shut up at this, listening intently along with the others of the room.

Trajann, Valerian, and the Tech-Priest intended to burn the Emperor's words into their minds, to be remembered for all of eternity.

"**The girl who stands before you now is my blood-daughter, my chosen champion who shall lead the Imperium against the great threats it currently faces."**

The humans listened attentively, Valerian sweating heavily with shame and anger directed at himself as he realized that he had truly shot at the Emperor's chosen.

"**Her authority shall be absolute, her will, unquestioned. A seat shall be made for her amongst the Highlords of Terra, for she is my voice."**

The girl was nervously protesting.

"Oi, oi, aren't you giving me too much power here?"

This went ignored by everyone present of course.

Trajann nodded, accepting his lord's words with conviction.

"If that is your will."

Valerian could now feel a pair of eyes on him, his sixth sense honed by experience in combat. This made him sweat even more, prespiration dripping from his face.

"**Valerian Dominique Maximus Primus."**

The Shield-Captain quickly became tense at this, as the words of the Emperor showed just a small, miniscule hint of hostility, not going unnoticed by anyone in the room.

"**For the crime of firing upon my daughter, I charge you with the punishment of eternal servitude to her. You shall spend the rest of your existence as her guardian, in her service with whatever task she requires of you."**

Valerian nodded. Trajann looked to him with sympathy, something the Shield-Captain appreciated but did not need. He was prepared for punishments far worse than this when he fired upon the girl. She would accept his sentence with open arms

"**This will be your punishment, and your honor. If my daughter dies, then the Imperium dies with her."**

Valierian uttered with conviction,

"It shall be done, my Emperor."

He did not hear the rantings of the angry girl who was standing before the throne.

"Oi Dad! Don't just bully him like that! And what in the warp's name do you mean by 'if she dies'? You know that it's literally impossible for that to happen!"

Again, this went unnoticed.

Now, adressing the Magos, the Emperor enacted the first stage of his plan.

"**Archmagos Delta Arator."**

The priest replied in an exited metalic voice, produced by his cybernetic voicebox.

"Yes my lord?"

"**Make haste back to your headquarters Tech-Priest. Gather the leaders of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Show them the memories you have stored today, and tell them that I, as the Omnissiah, have a message for the Cult Mechanicus and that it will be delivered by my daughter."**

The Magos was jittery, his systems completely flooded with joy. He would be entrusted to deliver a message from the Omnissiah himself after all.

"Yes, at once, my lord! I will deliver to them your great wisdom!"

Indeed, he would. He would assemble all the leaders of his organization and show them his memory banks for this very conversation. Then, there would be no protest.

The Emperor, deciding that he had spoken enough, soon said his goodbyes.

"**Farewell, my vassals. May you accomplish your tasks with great success and haste."**

Trajann spoke for all three of them.

"We shall not fail you my lord!"

The Emperor seemed to hum in approval.

"**Good."**

The presence slowly disappeared, the strange golden energy pulsating from the Emperor's body vanishing, almost as if it had never existed.

Mal, who had noticed the sudden disappearance of her father, stopped her protests.

Now that the Emperor was gone, they kneeled towards her, as if expecting something, their eyes shining with glints of pure faith and determination.

At this, half of Mal's face began twitching.

"_What in the warp is with this unexpected development!"_

**I couldn't really find much about the Adeptus Custodes, so I had to make some stuff up**

**It might get proven false leter in canon….**


	5. Onwards to Avarian V

**Mal POV**

Mal's face was horribly stiff, the right side of it twitching slightly.

"_Oi. What the frakk just happened?"_

It had taken a whole two minutes to transform the three hostile people in the room into kneeling wrecks of loyalty and worship.

Mal adopted a frightened expression because of what this meant.

"_Is this the power of faith? Scary…"_

However, she then slapped her cheeks to snap herself out of the effects of her father's display.

"_Bad Mal! It's work time! You can wonder about such things later!"_

Donning a beautiful and kind smile, Mal greeted the custodians and Archmagos.

"Hello, faithful ones! My name is Mal! What are yours?"

Trajann answered, still kneeling.

"You humble us with your praise, your majesty. I am Captain-General Trajann Valoris of the Adeptus Custodes. The man beside me is Shield-Captain Valerian Dominique Maximus Primus. The Tech-Priest to your right is called Archmagos Delta Arator of the Adeptus Mechanicus."

Mal nodded, but inside, she was nervous.

"_Uh oh. This guy with the axe is the leader of the Adeptus Custodes. I have to make a good impression on him. Those glaring eyes of his will probably find every hint of weakness I show."_

Redirecting her vision to the Tech-Priest, Mal inwardly winced.

"_Oh great, it's one of those Tech-Priests. I'll have to lie especially well around them. That plan needs to go well without a hitch, or the whole Imperium is screwed."_

Mal sighed and walked up to Valerian. She felt as if her dad had gone too far with his demands.

"Look, Valerian. You don't have to serve me if you don't want to. I'll respect your wishes if you don't want to follow me."

The Custodian shook his head.

"I live to do the will of the Emperor, my lady. Although my power may be lacking, I hope you will accept my unworthy self as a servant."

Mal sighed. She could feel a migraine coming already. She could already tell from the determination in Valerian's eyes. There would be no dissuading him.

"There's nothing I can say that will make you stay, is there?"

The custodian bravely stated,

"No, my lady. I will accept any punishment later, but serving you is my primary objective, from now, to the end of time."

Mal shook her head and smiled kindly.

"I suppose I'm in good hands then. Not many people could be lucky enough to have a custodian as their bodyguard."

The girl placed a hand on Valerian's golden shoulder plate.

"I'm sure that you'll be able to protect me splendidly."

The guardian did not dare to look at her, for at that moment, it would be akin to staring directly into the sun. His heart was filled with a new, strange warmth at the words of his new benevolent mistress, overflowing with determination.

"I will strive to meet your expectations, my lady."

The girl grinned at this, like the man before her more and more.

Trajann cleared his throat, gaining Mal's attention.

"What are your wishes, your majesty? I shall have a seat prepared for you amongst the Highlords of Terra, but what will you do now?"

Mal brought a hand up to her chin, deep in thought.

A few seconds later, she decided.

Turning towards the Archmagos, Mal addressed him.

"Please gather up the higher-ups of the Mechanicus. I will meet with them at a date we agree on."

The magos did not dare question the request of possibly the holiest person in the Imperium at the moment.

"It shall be done, my lady."

Using a communication device to call another Tech-Priest to take his place, the cyborg swiftly walked out of the throne room, probably acquiring a starship for a trip to Mars.

Turning back to the Captain-General, Mal stated simply,

"I wish to test my powers before I do anything else."

Trajann nodded. He wondered why the girl would need to test her powers, but quickly rid his mind of the questions. She was probably overconfident and energetic, looking for a chance to prove her strength. Many of the Primarchs were hot-blooded and eager for battle as well, so this was well within expectation. However, he did not want to send Mal to an actual battle, as her life could possibly be in danger.

"Understood. I shall prepare the training dumm-."

He was cut off.

"No, Captain-General. By that, I meant, take me to a battlefield. There is no time to waste. As we speak, millions of loyal Imperial soldiers are dying, losing their lives when I could easily prevent their demise. Therefore, it would much more productive if I tested my powers in live combat."

Trajann frowned at this. He was somewhat glad that Mal was kind, but he knew that kindness was the bane of any good commander in battle. It would cause more trouble than it was worth.

Mal chuckled, a sound that would have made the hearts of a thousand men flutter as one.

Imitating her father, she stated jokingly,

"You're thinking of something rude, aren't you?"

**Trajann POV**

The Captain-General was not particularly surprised. Of course, she would be a psyker. All the powerful ones were psykers. It wasn't surprising that she would be able to read thoughts.

"My apologies, my lady. I was simply worried about the disadvantages of your compassion. Although it shall be the greatest luxury of humanity, if you decide to spend it on xenos, then I fear they will take advantage of it."

He did not say anything about heretics, as the very notion of showing kindness to their kind could not be registered by his mind.

Trajann furthered his elaboration. While any other man would have been executed for such disrespectful words, the Captain-General was not any other man. He had been serving for the past ten thousand years, meaning that he possessed invaluable experience that not even the Emperor could easily dismiss.

Besides, he was genuinely worried about Mal's wellbeing, since her kindness could be easily taken advantage of.

After hearing the words of the Emperor himself, Trajann no longer doubted the girl's identity. There was no form of trickery in the galaxy that could so perfectly imitate the master of mankind like that.

Therefore, he would act as a pseudo-advisor to Mal so she would not be taken advantage of by the forces of chaos, filthy xenos, or disgusting heretics.

If something like that would happen, then death would be too good for him. After all, he, along with all his brothers, had let the Emperor take that fatal injury from Horus, a shame that they could never live down, no matter how much time passed. If he let something happen to the Emperor's daughter, who the Emperor practically entrusted to Valerian, then it would not be a laughing matter.

At this, Mal just chuckled, as if she expected those very words.

"Well, I have to be kind. Kukuku. Someone has to be in this cold and unforgiving galaxy."

As Trajann opened his mouth to protest, Mal raised a hand, interrupting him.

"I understand your concerns but rest assured, lord Trajann. I am not as gullible as you would think."

She made sure to use a tone that would permit no argument, stilling whatever protest the Captain-General would have.

Honestly, there were some potential xeno allies out there. Mal knew this to be a fact. After all, humans and Eldar have worked together before. It was only the culture separating them that made them hate each other.

In reality, they weren't too different from humans. Even more so for Tau, although their annoying ideology would be difficult to deal with.

"Please, prepare a spacecraft for me so I can go to the nearest battlefield."

Trajann sighed.

Fine. He could already tell that there was no stopping Mal from doing what she wanted to do. She was just that kind of person.

Still, Mal was still the Emperor's daughter, and by her request, the Captain-General was going to send her to the most epic battlefield present. He could do at least that much.

There could only be one place where such a war would take place.

A war between eight armies, that is.

He had recently been informed that there was a small amount of… trouble… arising in the civilized world of Avarian V. Something about a warp storm and an orc infestation.

At the time, Trajann did not pay this news any mind, as similar things were happening at many other planets.

However, considering that Avarian V was extremely close to Terra compared to other planets near the border of Imperial territory, it would be perfect for Mal's request.

Trajann prayed that Mal would be able to learn humility from this.

After all, not even a Primarch could take on a whole army by themselves. Overconfidence was a great source of danger.

Valerian would be able to protect Mal from the danger, making sure that nothing would happen to her, at the cost of his life if the situation needed it.

"Understood, your majesty. I shall prepare a transport to Avarian V immediately. Please meet up with Governor-General Jonathan Lance when you arrive."

Mal nodded happily.

"That would be wonderful Trajann. How long will it take for me to get there?"

The Captain-General replied,

"With the usage of warp-travel, in a few weeks. However, if fortune is not on our side, then it will take an indefinite amount of time."

Mal smirked. She always wanted to have the feeling of doing something no one else could or something considered impossible.

It was definitely not disappointing.

"I have a reasonable amount of control over the warp thanks to my father's blessings, so we should be able to get there faster with my powers."

Trajann's eyes widened at this, but immediately narrowed in wariness.

"Be careful, your majesty. Even the Primarch Magnus was unable to escape the whispers of the Chaos gods. Tapping into the warp gives them direct access to your mind."

Mal chuckled at this.

She knelt down, gently placing a hand on the Captain-General's pauldron, speaking in a warm tone,

"Thank you, Trajann. Your advice is greatly appreciated."

Rising, Mal closed her eyes.

"However, you seem to be assuming that I am an ordinary psyker. I assure you that is not the case."

This was only to be expected. After all, all the Primarchs were psykers, and people who did not truly worship the Emperor. Except for Lorgar of course, but he changed his faith. Some had been corrupted because of their arrogance, others, because of their connection to the Warp.

Trajann frowned in confusion.

He completely forgot about the Living Saints at that moment, automatically assuming that Mal was a normal, albeit powerful, psyker because she was the Emperor's daughter.

The Captain-General was in for a great shock.

Suddenly, a dense presence filled the room, as if the gravity had been multiplied tenfold. The Custodians, who were kneeling, found it difficult to remain so instead of being crushed to the floor.

As Mal opened her eyes again, they were pure gold and aflame, akin to miniature stars. A golden halo formed over her head as thick, foggy tendrils of gold energy escaped from every orifice of her body, which seemed to glow like the sun itself, blinding to even look at.

This was Mal when she stopped suppressing her powers, her true form, you could say.

Now, instead of some arrogant child pretending to be a Commissar, Mal looked as if she was born to wear her clothes, the gold on them further emphasizing on the visualization of her power.

Even the two Custodians, one of which, a hardened battle veteran who has lived for ten thousand years, were barely able to breathe thanks to the thick, almost solid psychic energy in the air.

However, in an instant, as if dispelled, Mal Instantly returned to normal, a little smile on her face.

Valerian, who recovered first, asked in shock, professionalism all but forgotten.

"Wha-What was that?"

Trajann however, remained wide-eyed, his entire body tense in realization. He was too preoccupied with his thoughts to chastise Valerian for his disrespectful question.

"_This power! It is almost the same as the Emperor's!"_

Mal happily explained.

"My father has granted me a small portion of his power. The specifics would be too difficult to explain, so I'll just say this. My soul itself is bound to him and I'm something of an improved Living Saint with the upgraded genetic code of a Primarch. Basically, I'm impervious to chaotic corruption, since they would have to sever the bond with my father first, which they probably can't do."

Valerian and Trajann looked at her, surprise evident on their faces.

What the girl was saying was absurd, ludicrousy at its finest.

However, they accepted this information without a second thought, as those same words were backed by the Emperor himself.

This was surprising to him. After all, only the humans who were the most faithful towards the Emperor would receive his blessing. The fact that Mal had this power must have meant that her faith in him must have been staggering, much more so than any of the Primarchs. This meant that even if what Mal said about her resistances were false, it would still be near impossible to turn her to chaos.

The Captain-General had mixed feelings about this.

Such a large amount of faith would make Mal completely impervious to Chaos, making her the greatest weapon against them.

On the other hand, it could have also meant she was a fanatic and that she would purge everyone she deemed as a heretic in sight. Mal's current personality did not seem to condone such things, but it could simply be good acting.

He could only hope that the girl would not further stagnate the Imperium, tearing it apart from the inside.

Trajan stammered,

"A-Alright. I will begin preparations on your trip. Your transport will be ready in due time, my lady."

After saying this, Trajann left the room, entertaining his thoughts.

He now knew that Mal was more than what she seemed, that she was a beacon of hope for all mankind, but also a possible threat.

Frowning, the Captain-General sighed.

Mal still seemed to be a child who did not understand the true nature of war. Hopefully, time in actual battles would correct her flawed mindset. That, and the guidance of several others, would make her a fine general. She was the Emperor's daughter after all.

**Mal POV**

Meanwhile, Mal smirked inside the throne room, having heard every word the Captain-General's mind emitted.

"_I understand much more than you would think, Trajann. Much, much more."_

**Palace of Khorne**

The god of blood and violence stirred in his great brass throne, atop a mountain of skulls. With an entertained expression on his dog-like face, obscured by his sinister great helm, Khorne looked to his many warp-monitors, observing the actions of his champions.

Truly, the sight of spilled blood and decapitated heads never ceased to appease him. It was something he just could not, for the life of him, get bored of.

However, as he was watching what could be equated to be a soccer game for him, the current battle of a band of Khornate berzerkers, tearing into a group if Imperial guardsmen like a chainsaw through wet paper, Khorne felt something, a feeling that distracted him from the sight of such a great moment of carnage.

For it was the descent of a new entity in the realm of realspace. A new entity that felt quite similar to his self-proclaimed rival, the Emperor.

The blood god sensed that the golden man had been hiding something inside the Warp. It was just an unexplainable sensation, like something had changed. Call it a gut feeling if you will.

Smirking wildly, Khorne exclaimed,

"Ah! So that's who you were hiding!"

These words were intended to be spoken towards the Emperor, who was not present at the moment.

However, Khorne did not care about that, for he was too obsessed with this new development to care.

For the potential of the new arrival was just too great, too good to be true.

The blood god could practically smell the battle prowess of this individual. Even if she did not realize it herself, this girl was clearly meant to be a great warrior. In fact, Mal's potential was so great that Khorne pardoned her for her use of dishonorable psychic sorcery.

He was slightly annoyed with the fact that she could not become one of his warriors, as she had already been claimed by the Emperor. Moreover, she would not readily shed blood, as Mal seemed to be too kind-hearted for that.

However, even so, Khorne could tell. He could easily see the hidden side of her, the side that would show no mercy to those she considered to be her true enemies. He was the god of war after all. It took only one look of Mal's face on his warp-monitor to notice this, reading into the girl's soul with but a glance.

No, the girl was definitely not above murder, certainly not above killing. Granted, she would not kill without good reason, pity, but she would definitely do so if pushed hard enough.

She would not be above the senseless killing of those she saw as less than worms.

The blood god grinned.

He didn't care where blood flowed from, only that it flowed. It didn't matter to him that Mal wasn't his follower, or that she would not bring him much power. Khorne just wanted to see her face, twisted into an angry snarl, hands tearing through the ranks of whatever army that she considered an enemy, and single-handedly annihilating them all.

Moreover, she seemed to be the type that would do just about anything for her loved ones, getting angry for them easily.

The chaos god grinned.

He couldn't wait to see this girl get pissed off.

Yes, he could see it now.

Entire worlds would drown in the sheer amount of blood she would spill. Mal was not above things like blood rage.

The best part?

All it would take would be the death of one friend, one loved one.

The blood god began to laugh openly, terrifying the daemons which patrolled his real.

Something like that could be easily arranged.

**The ending was a bit forced**

**This chapter as really hard to write for some reason**

**And before anyone gets any funny ideas, Valerian will not be in a romantic relationship with Mal**


	6. The Spar

**Mal POV**

Mal was now aboard the large battlecruiser known as the _Ork's Bane_. Apparently, it was famous for killing orcs, hence, the name.

However, none of that was important. What truly mattered was the cruiser's warp drive, which was able to be fitted into the ship because of its large carrying capacity.

Trajann explained the situation to the ship's captain, who agreed almost immediately to take Mal to Averian V as soon the Custodian told him that she was the Emperor's daughter. He was deeply religious after all.

Well, Mal might have slightly tweaked his brain to make him just a little more gullible.

Apparently, the cruiser was somewhat famous in the Imperial Navy, having gone to battle against Orks over hundreds of time, or something like that. It was docked in Terra for some reason that she didn't ask about, as it wasn't very important.

Mal and Valerian had been offered VIP rooms, or the closest thing to them they had here, with the captain openly bowing to them and telling her what a great honor it was having a holy person like her on the ship, blah blah blah.

He might have been a captain fearsome in war, but in the end, he was simply another religious fanatic who kissed the toes of others. It wasn't like he had to do any actual fighting anyways, simply pressing a button and taking all the credit. It was pure luck that he survived for as long as he did.

Mal didn't think much of the man, recognizing him an arrogant fool who claimed to be a soldier, but did not truly fight. She did not particularly bad about slightly brainwashing him. After all, all she did was make Trajann's words more believable for the captain.

Nonetheless, she took him up on his offer of transportation, as she had no other choice.

The truth was, even though she said something so kind earlier in the throne room, she did not truly have a choice in going to the warring planet.

Well, what she said was not false either. Mal truly cared for the populace of the Imperium, as they all cared for her father. She understood that the reason they cared was because of being brainwashed at birth, but that still didn't change the fact that they loved him.

Therefore, she would definitely not stand idly by as the soldiers who all believed in her father are killed by enemy forces. That wasn't how Mal did things.

However, that was not the only reason.

Sure, she could prove her identity by showing everyone the memory storage of the Archmagos who was present during the conversation with her father, but she needed more than that.

The Emperor's words would prove her identity and his wishes for her. However, Mal herself needed to do something herself to truly prove her own competence in the people's eyes. At least that was what she thought.

And what better proof of her ability was there in this dark and chaotic galaxy than the slaughtering of enemy foes?

Mal smiled deviously.

This would be her first debut in the galaxy.

She would need to show off make it as flashy as possible, for the sake of her reputation of course.

Those poor little armies in Avarian V would have no idea what hit them.

**Valerian POV**

He had sworn to serve her, seeing it as his duty, and his punishment. Therefore, he would need to follow her wherever she went, doing whatever she said.

But seriously? How was he, her sworn protector supposed to react when Mal ordered him to strike at her with his spear?

Valerian honestly didn't know what to think of Mal. At first, he thought that she was naive because of her compassion. After all, such a thing would only lead to disaster in a galaxy such as their's. Even if she was the Emperor's daughter, that didn't mean that she was exempt from this rule.

Afterward, he expected to be treated as a tool, not just for his transgressions, but also because of his status as her weapon.

However, the girl obviously did not see him as such, often giving him gentle and compassionate smiles as if they were long lost friends. Valerian was unable to process this.

After all, he had turned his bolter on her as soon as they met, even shooting at her.

Granted, Mal shouldn't even be trusting him, let alone showing such compassion. However, Valerian's strange new mistress, full of eccentricities, seemed to have no problems with his previous behavior.

She said something strange about the circumstances being what they were and even complimenting him on his snap-second decision. What kind of person complimented someone else for shooting them?!

On the ship, Mal had wanted to get a little of "training" in, stating that they should spar before the ship entered the Warp and she was forced to guide it.

Despite his vehement protesting, the girl had told him to get his new mastercrafted Paragon Spear, given to him by Trajann to better serve the Emperor's daughter.

It was truly a beautiful weapon, the shaft serving as a long automatic Paragon bolter weapon, a trigger located at the bottom of the weapon. A long, wicked power blade was attached to the top of the shaft, acting as a tip, a power generator acting as an added weight to the tip. A large adamantium spike was located at the opposite end from the blade, giving off the appearance of a strange halberd. Artistic, holy symbols of High Gothic adjourned the weapon, furthermore enhancing the fearsome sight of the treasured spear.

The power blade upon the sacred treasure was capable of disrupting all solid matter, cutting through the likes of adamantium with ease. The paragon bolter was an ancient firearm, capable of penetrating ceramite and plasteel akin to a throwing nail to a water balloon, not to mention the explosion afterward, the shrapnel capable of instantly pulverizing the upper body of a normal human.

Now, Mal was telling Valerian to use that same weapon on her as if asking a magician to show her a trick.

The newly enstated bodyguard had no idea what to think of this. On one hand, he was somewhat insulted that he was being looked down upon, as if he could do no damage to Mal even if he tried his finest. That was what his mistress's carefree attitude stated.

On the other hand, Valierian trusted in Mal's intelligence and foresight. She was the Emperor's daughter after all.

In the end, the custodian could only comply, as he was bound to her by the word of the Emperor himself. He had no choice in the matter.

Hesitantly pointing his spear at Mal, Valerian got into a combat stance.

Mal smirked.

"Don't worry that much. Just go all out."

The man was about to voice a protest again when mal interrupted him.

"Ah! But don't use your bolter. Its a waste of ammo and can damage the ship."

Her words were true. Rounds for the Paragon bolter weren't exactly cheap, each one worth the yearly salary of an Imperial Guardsman.

Moreover, Mal had chosen the location for their little spar to be at a storage room in the starship. One missed round could cause heavy damage in the crates of rations. They were currently facing each other in the open space, the girl in her commissar outfit, and the custodian, helmetless

Sighing, Valerian inwardly hoped that Mal was ready for this. She might have been a powerful agent of the Emperor. She might have stated that she was something like a Primarch.

However, the custodian assumed that she was a toned down version of them with more powerful psychic powers granted by the Emperor. After all, the girl looked like she was sixteen and didn't reach a grown man in terms of height. Her body might have been fair, able to arouse desire in any normal man, but it could be told in an instant that she did not have any muscles for combat.

He could not be blamed for this.

Every Primarch was known to be a giant even the space marines, towering above mere mortals with their sheer size, further enhanced by their power armor, each possessing battl-hardened bodies that would make the most stalwart of war veterans blush with shame.

How could Mal possibly compare to that with her girlish physique and unfitting Commisar outfit? There was no way. Sure, she had prover her prowess when she caught his bolter round, but deflecting a bolter round was nothing to actual combat with a custodian. The amount of ease that she performed the action could have been fabricated to make him feel inferior. At least that was what he thought.

Thinking that Mal was not adept physically, the custodian held back on his thrust. He, of course, did not activate the power generator.

The cool metal blade of the Paragon spear zipped towards Mal's chest, the sheer speed and velocity of the strike above the reactions of any normal man.

Facing the blow which would have impaled even the most hardened of soldiers in an instant, Mal's eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

Shoving a hand in the pocket of her military outfit, the girl easily caught the shaft of the prized spear, gripping it in a way that showed just how little of her strength she was using in the action.

In a slightly angered and annoyed expression, Mal asked,

"Are you even taking this seriously? You shouldn't underestimate an opponent just because they look weak, you know."

Valerian was about to reply, to tell his mistress that he didn't think that she was weak based on her bodily appearance, but soon realized it to be the truth.

All it took was one glance, one glance at Mal to make Valerian question why he ever thought she was weak in any way.

Those purple eyes seemed to radiate pure strength, not to mention the grip on his spear. He felt that even if he used his full strength to wrench control of his weapon from the girl, it would do no good.

Sighing in shame, Valerian apologized.

"I am sorry, my lady. Please give me another chance."

It was true after all, a lesson that even a guardsman should have learned, not to mention a custodian.

To think that he himself would fall into the trap called arrogance. The word shame was not enough to describe Valierian's emotions.

Mal gently flicked Valerian on the forehead, a good-natured smirk on her face.

"Then come at me seriously this time."

Jumping backward slightly, Mal placed both hands in her pockets, standing still as if inviting the custodian to attack her.

With newfound determination and a need to rectify his earlier mistake, Valerian now put his all into his thrusts, every strike calculated and precise, aiming for a vital artery or organ.

"Haaa!"

Seeing this, Mal grinned in satisfaction, a sight that further invigorated the already determined heart of the Custodes. He no longer had any reservations about hurting his mistress, mainly because of the fact that he probably wouldn't be able to do so in the first place.

As the first thrust approached the girl's neck, moving faster than a bolter round, Mal simply tilted her head out of the way, only a few centimeters away from the cold steel of the spear.

This wasn't all, however, as Valerian followed up on the thrust with countless more, arms moving so quickly that it created an illusion that showed the combined thrusts of a hundred spears, heading straight at Mal at the same time.

This barrage of attacks did not stop for several minutes, their speed accelerating instead of decreasing. Not a bead of sweat could be detected upon Valerian's brow, his expression calm and concentrated.

However, even when faced with this onslaught of pure steel terror, Mal's smirk never left her face, slightly adjusting her body to move out of the way for every individual thrust, hands in pockets all the while. Her body seemed to create many afterimages as she moved much faster than what a regular human body would allow.

Valerian was not daunted at this, nor was he angered with the apparent ease his mistress showed in dodging his attacks.

No, he was past such things. Mal's earlier chastisement had brought back the old custodian in him, calm, disciplined, and ready for anything.

Instead of such repulsive emotions, Valerian felt pride, pride that he was allowed to serve such a powerful, yet benevolent mistress. A mistress that would show such great compassion to beings inferior to herself.

Yes, if the situation called for it, he would surely throw his life away for Mal with no hesitation whatsoever.

Deciding to switch his fighting style to the one commonly used by Custodians in battle, Valerian began to swing his polearm at Mal, more akin to a halberd than a spear.

These attacks would be much more difficult to dodge than thrusts, sweeping in a line instead of attacking a single spot. Of course, these attacks put him more at risk of a counterattack, but it was obvious that Mal did not intend to fight back, as her hands still did not leave her pockets. Valerian would take advantage of this.

He knew it was dishonorable, but in a real battle, a warrior must learn to take full advantages of any weakness or flaw the opponent shows. Even if this was a spar, those rules were not exempt from it.

However, even at his vigorous swings, perfectly controlled and expertly aimed, Mal still kept her hands in her pockets, albeit a different kind of smile on her face now. It was more akin to a smile of satisfaction.

This, however, did not change the fact that she completely evaded every attack Valerian threw at her.

Leg sweeping slashes would be met with a perfectly timed leap, decapitating blows would be dodged expertly with a slight duck, the strike unable to cut even a single strand of hair on Mal's head.

This endless assault seemed to continue for hours and hours for Valerian, his thoughts having long sped up, planning several perfectly placed strikes in the span of a millisecond.

He was barely able to notice his now uneven and heavy breathing, not to mention the rivers of sweat dripping from his head.

Seeing this, Mal took a hand out of her pocket, calling out to Valerian with a stern tone.

"Stop."

Hearing this, the custodian dropped his combat stance, trying to regain control of his breathing.

Mal smiled happily.

"You're really skilled you know. If it was anyone else, they would be dead by now."

Valerian replied, feeling a burst of pride ripple through his being.

"Y-you f-flatter me my l-lady."

The girl placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Nope, I'm not joking. You're really capable in combat."

Mal grinned joyfully.

"I'm really glad Dad chose you to be my bodyguard."

At that moment, all Valerian felt was bliss. Never mind the exhaustion of his body, his mind was completely appeased.

To think that the one he served would off him such great praise. As a custodian, his combat prowess was renowned. However, such words coming from the words of someone as powerful as Mal made him happy more than anything, even though he found himself lacking.

After all, she was holding back an unbelievable amount of power against Valerian. She literally had her hands in her pockets the whole time.

Mal's face at that moment seemed so happy, so cheerful, so… relieved?

Valerian frowned at that last emotion. Why, why would she feel relieved at this? It wasn't as if she actually needed him as a bodyguard. He could clearly see that now. He wasn't so strong to proclaim that he could protect someone on Mal's level.

No, she should have been disappointed, furious even, that someone so vastly inferior to herself was assigned to her. No, someone like Mal should not have been guarded by one single custodian, but a whole company, similar to the three hundred chosen to defend the Emperor. Now he knew just how powerful Mal was, Valerian could safely say that any less would be an insult to her prowess. After all, what was the point of assigning a single ant to guard a mighty elephant?

However, his mistress's next words gave him the answer he sought, an answer that he was unable to understand.

Mal sighed in relief.

"I'm just glad that you're so powerful. It means that I don't have to worry about you too much."

Valerian was not able to comprehend the meaning behind those words. What did she mean by "worry about him"? He was her servant, her weapon. For someone of Mal's power, it wouldn't even be that big of a detriment if he died.

The girl elaborated, seeing Valierian's confusion.

"Well, as your master, whether I like it or not, I have to make sure that you're safe. You're my only subordinate right now, which means that all my attention is on you."

Mal snorted.

"I would be a crappy boss if I let something happen to my only employee, you know?"

Valerian blinked several times, trying to figure out just what exactly Mal was saying, the idea of an boss and employee relationship being completely incomprehensible to the man living in the forty-second millennium.

Seeing this, Mal sighed.

"Well, there is another reason, actually."

Valerian's eyes sparkled with confusion.

Mal continued, slightly embarrassed. She became slightly bashful, turning her eyes to the side. This did not fit very well with her dazzling military uniform, of course.

"W-well, I'm just happy to see someone so determined for my sake. This is the first time anyone has devoted their life to me."

Valerian stared at his lady, wide-eyed. Was this truly the daughter of the Emperor? The holy messiah who would rescue humanity from its decadence? He found it difficult to believe that someone with a task so important could have a personality so innocent, so pure.

If someone had mentioned the idea of Mal's existence to Valerian in the past, he would have imagined a muscled woman with a body covered with battle scars, infinite wisdom, and a cold and logical personality, uncaring for human life. That person would be what every Imperial Guardsman, space marine, and sister of battle would strive to be. After all, there was no room for kindness and naivety in this unforgiving galaxy.

Even so, he wondered, seeing his lady's embarrassed expression,

"_Must this be so wrong?"_

There was just something unexplainable about Mal, something that not even the genetic manipulation of the Emperor could replicate.

It was the image of an innocent girl, untainted by the fires of war, an image which was completely incomprehensible in the forty-second millennium.

A galaxy without war.

That was both a strange and impossible ideal for the custodian. After all, the enemies of mankind were determined and many in number. They would not rest until all humanity was destroyed.

However, to the guardian, a galaxy without all that, didn't actually seem to be such a bad place, even to one such as him.

This was why Mal's strange smile, bearing the ideals of a foreign land, appealed to Valerian, even if he didn't fully know that yet.

Mal continued to talk while the custodian pondered.

"Besides, even though you were ordered to by Dad, you still seem to genuinely care for me."

She smiled warmly towards him.

"Thanks to that, I might just have gotten a little attached to you."

Valerian's eyes widened at this. He knew she was different, but this… this was just too much!

He was just a bodyguard, someone whose life should be used for Mal's sake with no hesitation from both parties. She was supposed to see him as no more than a weapon. After all, he was not like some of his other brothers, with intellectual powers so great that they served as advisors to the Emperor himself.

Valerian sighed.

In the end, there was nothing he could do about it except for giving a little warning. Judging by the personality traits Mal currently exhibited, there was no way she would change her mind about this.

"My lady, I'm a simple weapon to be used at your convenience. I would gladly throw my life away for you if you are in danger. Therfore, please do not say such things."

Mal's smile became sad.

"I know, Valerian. However, there will be no such need in the foreseeable future. After all, I…"

In that moment, the captain of the cruiser barged into the training room, kneeling before Mal, who was now directing her attention towards him.

"Your holiness. My appoligies for interrupting your sacred ceremony, but the ship is now ready to enter the Warp. We are in need of your guidance."

Mal simoly looked at the man with emotionless eyes, completely expressionless. The traces of the warmth and compassion shown earlier having completely dissipeared.

Valerian likened it to the look a commissar usually gave to a guardsman, but soon realized his mistake. A commissar looked at guardsmen with inquisitive attention, waiting for the appearence of weakness or fear like a tiger waiting for its prey.

However, Mal's expression was not like that. Standing to her side, Valerian could clearly see that.

It was chilling really, that someone like Mal could make those eyes, those cold, dead eyes that a man would use to regard a single ant upon the ground.

The personality change was so great that Valerian was momentarily shell shocked.

"_H-How is it possiable to act so kind and compassionate towards someone and so uncaring towards another? Were the emotions she showed to me earlier fake? No, that's not it. I refuse to believe that anyone could fake that expression, that smile, so warm and gentle. But what is it then? Is it my rank? My status? It is as if I am regarded as from a completely different species than the man before me."_

Mal responded to the request with a dead voice which perfectly matched her face.

"I see. Captain, please take me to the warp drive. According to my calculations, we shall arrive on Avarian V at the end of the day."

The captain exclaimed, excitedly, almost like a child who first saw the wonders of a new toy.

"Magnificent! Only your holiness could accomplish such a great feat! I would expect no less!"

Mal nodded, concealing an irritated expression that would have fooled the most experienced of politicians.

Mal walked out of the room with the captain, leaving to his thoughts.

The custodian at down on the floor, a small smile on his face.

"_My, my. I've certainly found an eccentric mistress to serve."_

**Mal POV**

Mal certainly did not have high expectations for Valerian when she called him to spar. After all, her training consisted of mock battles with her father himself. What better opponent could there be than the Emperor of mankind?

Yes, the custodian's deadly strikes would have been near impossible to deflect by anyone short of a Primarch. Mal knew this. That was why she had been so satisfied with him.

She now knew that she did not have to worry about him too much. After all, there weren't many things that could take the custodian on.

However, secretly, she wished the guardian would have done just a little better, even if she knew this to be a fruitless hope.

Mal wanted something of a challenge, not dodging attacks her senses saw as moving in extremely slow motion. Not to mention the small amount of force put into those very blows.

Alas, her secret expectations were too high. She herself knew that. However, this could not be helped, as her swordsmanship training with her father, who was indisputably the best swordsman in the entire Imperium, if not the galaxy, well... Maybe Horus was better. The Emperor had implied that several times, but she would never know.

During training with someone like that, was pure hell.

Mal had to dodge and parry over twenty slashes in the spam of an single second, each with enough power to pulverize solid blocks of arumite. That was only the warm-up.

After years of time spent through that regime every single day, it was no wonder the custodian did not pose anything remotely close to a challange to Mal.

Even so, the Emperor had forced the girl to spend a ridiculously long time watching the Adaptus Custodes in battle in the form of videos made from his own memories, saying that they were the best warriors and that Mal should learn from them. Of course, he also showed her scenes from other battles, involving soldiers from every major faction in the galaxy.

It didn't take that long for Mal to completely memorize the fighting style of the custodians and exactly how they thought, moved, acted, etc. Sometimes, even the girl herself thought her newfound intelligence was terrifying.

Soon, she was able to completely calculate their moves before they made them.

During the spar, Mal became awfully bored, seeing that no attack was even close to hitting her.

"_Yep, a slash at the chest. He's going to use the momentum from that to cut at my legs, so I'd better jump."_

To be fair, there was one fatal flaw in the custodians' fighting style that made them easy to predict.

They were too perfect. Every strike would be perfectly executed, aiming at a vital organ or slashing at limbs holding weapons. Moreover, they did not have any wasted movements, incorporating the kinetic energy from one failed strike into their second one, knowing exactly how they should move to minimise the time required for the action.

Sometimes, the targets of their strikes would be dependent on this rule. Therefore, for someone like Mal, their attacks were easy to predict.

Valerian never stood a chance against her.

"_Maybe I should have blindfolded myself and tied my legs together? No, too much trouble."_

Well, in the end, the results slightly exceeded Mal's expectations. Valerian was much better than he thought, clearly having fought in many battles over his long life.

She was satisfied with this. After all, what more could she ask for? Not everyone could have access to a ridiculous amount of genetic tampering by the Emperor himself. Valerian did very well for someone whose entire purpose was not to save the entirety of humanity from destruction.

In the end, Mal wanted to tell Valerian that she was immortal, so that he would not throw his life away for her needlessly, but was interrupted by that captain, who she did not truly despise, but barely saw as a sentient living being. She hated cowards more than anything.

Walking slowly to the gigantic room which held the warp drive, Mal thought nervously,

"_Now then. How do I actually guide this thing?"_

**Yeah… I did a little more research on WH40k, and found out some strange things**

**Apparently, there are actually a lot more inconsistencies than I thought**

**From the strength of the armor to the effectiveness of the weapons, all that varies to a ridiculous amount**

**Well, I will gratefully accept any constructive criticism, but some of the mistakes I make might not be actual mistakes, just my own take of the strength wargear and prowess of the characters**

**I might make some things too overpowered, and other things too underpowered**

**We'll see**


	7. Dawn of (Not)War

My apologies for the grammar errors in the last chapter

Grammarly failed on me

Mal POV

It turned out that guiding the warp drive was much easier than Mal expected. All she needed to do was to reinforce the Gellar field around the cruiser and guide the ship. They did get attacked by a powerful daemon thanks to Mal's presence, but she was able to protect the starship from it with minimal trouble. She could easily disguise her presence from the dwellers of realspace, but it was a whole thing entirely when she was in the Warp.

Anyways, Mal was able to guide the cruiser to the designated location at record time, without a single scratch on the ship and its crew.

She had completely ignored the worshipping attitude the crew and the captain gave her afterward.

Now, Mal had reached Avarian V, the giant cruiser having stopped completely at the orbit of the planet.

Mal now spoke to the captain, addressing him with a cold and formal tone.

"Captain, I will now teleport to the Imperial Guard station on Avarian V with my guardian, Valerian. You and your crew are not to follow us on pain of death. Is that understood?"

The zealous coward bowed his head.

"Yes! Of course, your holiness!"

Sighing, Mal walked to Avarian, who was waiting for her at the teleporter.

She grinned excitedly. This was going to be her first debut, and it would be a magnificent one.

After all, all of the enemy factions were undeveloped, the servants of Chaos probably not eve summoning any greater daemons. It was a perfect ability to test out her crowd control abilities against live opponents.

The teleporter activated.

"Oh, I can't wait to blow their minds."

Narrator POV

(A lot of the following is taken from the Dawn of War game. I do not own this prologue)

In the civilized planet of Avarian V, the Imperial Guard ruled with an iron hand, leaving the planet in relative peace. This was, until the Warp storm happened. Caused by a fugitive psyker corrupted by Chaos, the storm brought about a warband of Alpha Legion chaos space marines led by Lord Davtoth Abanath, bent on conquering the Imperial world. Half of the Imperial Guards had already fallen thanks to their presence. They reigned on the western continent,

However, this wasn't all. Even before the Chaos invasion, trouble was already brewing on the surface of the planet.

Deep in the jungles of Aneroth, a capable warlord had arisen from the orks on the planet, never been successfully put down by the guardsmen. This warlord, named Utzmar Strongkleava, united all the warring ork klans in the jungle, soon amassing a reasonably sized army. Now, he has deemed his forces strong enough and the guardsmen weak enough, due to the Chaos invasion, for him to attempt his takeover on the planet.

However, unknown to both invading forces, a third, ancient army rested deep with sands of the Saderian desert. For millennia, the ageless Necrons slept, undisturbed, until now. Why they woke, no one could say for sure. It is speculated that the appearance of the Warp storm did this, but it could also possibly have been the Imperial excavation parties sent to the undiscovered regions of the planet.

Regardless, the Necrons began to march, determined to wipe all life off the planet, led by the Necron Lord of Avarian V.

In response to this, ancient Eldar webway gates on the planet began to shine with mystic energy, as the Aledari of craftworld Ulthwe once again came to combat their deathless foes, arriving at the ice-coated northern wastes which lay next to the desert, their victory foreseen by the seer Lanaria.

On the far east coast of Avarian V, the Eldar's malignant brethren made their appearance in the through their own webways. Led by Archon Erzavayn Le'utyhr, the sadistic pirates sought to plunder for slaves and riches at the battlefield, becoming the carrion vultures of this war.

In the same northern wastes the Eldar inhabited, a company of space marines descended. Of the Blood Ravens chapter, the warrior-monks sook to claim all of the ancient artifacts upon the planet, purging the xenos and heretics while they did so. Lead by captain Nathanel Bariel and Librarian Gadriel Kalaziel, the space marines would undertake a great purge, one on a scale the planet had never seen.

Meanwhile, the Ordo Hereticus had received word of the Chaotic corruption on the planet. Unable to simply let this heresy stand, the Inquisitors convinced the Eccilericy to send the Sisters of Battle to cleanse every heretic on the planet under the command of sister Vylira Jessiael. Nothing was clean, all must be purged.

Hence, the war began, every faction in the planet fighting each other for control of the world, truly a battle for the ages.

Then again...

Jonathan Lance POV

Governor-General Jonathan Lance was a veteran of many battles. He had fought against Orks, Tyranids, Tau, and Eldar, and even Chaos, and lived to tell the tale. This was why he was assigned his current position.

With a cold and logical thought process which could put a computer to shame coupled with his charismatic might, he was truly someone who could be said to be a perfect leader of the Imperial guard.

He was supposed to be immune to surprise, expecting the unexpected at every given moment. He wouldn't even blink if an orc came up behind him guns blazing at the very moment, simply pulling out his las-pistol and executing the foul xeno on the spot without any delay.

Still, no amount of preparation could ready the Governor-General for what happened next.

He was out in the field with his men, encouraging them with charismatic words when it happened. The strangest and awe-inspiring moment of his life which he would not forget until his dying days.

With a blinding flash of golden psychic energy, two figures suddenly appeared a few feet next to the man.

To their credit, the guardsmen covered their eyes for only a moment before aiming their las-rifles at the newcomers, readying their weapons before their eyes could even register who the strangers were.

The same was with the Governor-General, aiming his las-pistol with a scowl on his face.

However, once the guardsmen realized just exactly who they were aiming at, they froze in shock, for the golden armor of the custodians graced their eyes. They didn't even notice the girl who stood to his side.

Seeing this, the giant growled in fury, the sound deep and menacing when amplified by the vox technology in his helmet. He quickly readied his treasured spear, activating the power generator and pointing it at the Governor-General, the blue power field humming menacingly. His following words, imbued with righteous anger, was deafening to the guardsmen, amplified a hundredfold by the vox-caster in his helmet.

"WHAT IS THIS HERESY! YOU DARE POINT YOUR WEAPONS AT THE EMPEROR"S DAUGHTER!?"

Jonathan could literally feel the blood gushing out of his ears, considering how close he was to the nine-foot-tall giant.

Quickly realizing just who exactly this person was, the Governor-General quickly shouted to his men, who all wore expressions of shock and horror, mirrored by Jonathan's own. After all, they had aimed their weapons at a guardian of the Emperor, a crime punishable by death. He had not realized what the latter words truly meant, as his brain was too busy trying to process the information from before.

Throwing his las-pistol to the ground, he shouted desperately,

"D-drop your weapons! Now!"

His voice was shaky and unstable, the same with his body. Still, the commander knelt, trying his best to fix the damage that had been done.

Still, no one was able to notice the figure of the girl next to the custodian, their eyes completely glued to him, unable to move.

Jonathan choked out,

"H-honored custodian, m-my apologies. We did not receive word that you would be gracing us with your presence."

That had apparently been the wrong thing to say as the giant's finger quickly moved to the trigger for his bolter attachment, the barrel of the weapon aimed squarely at the guardsman's head.

Jonathan was sweating buckets now.

However, before the unnamed custodian could reduce the man's head to a million bloody chunks, the girl beside him walked forwards, holding her arm out in front of him.

In a voice as smooth as the highest-quality silk, she calmly said,

"Wait, Valerian. They're not enemies. Don't just kill people for no good reason."

The custodian nodded, chastised. Turing off his spear's power generator, he gripped it in one hand to his side in a gesture of peace.

Still, Jonathan was not as foolish to think that the golden man would not be able or willing to slaughter half of the guardsmen present in the span of a single second if provoked.

Gulping nervously, he looked to the girl before him, the one who donned a strange golden commissar uniform. Strangely, the materials which made up the clothing seemed to glow with a strange energy, something the man brushed off as a side effect of being in close proximity with the custodian.

She seemed to be young in age, her lips forming a compassionate smile which seemed oddly genuine. However, Jonathan saw such things before. He knew how easily an expression like that could be faked.

Completely forgetting what the custodian addressed her as before, he simply thought that the girl was a highly capable commander. Although, how she could gain the favor of a custodian was beyond him. Moreover, it was extremely strange how the guardian simply obeyed her every command. It was like she was the one in control.

Kneeling on one knee, Jonathan asked the strange being before him. Despite towering above her in appearance, he knew that she would probably be able to kill him in but a second.

"M-may I ask for your identity, oh gracious one?"

The custodian growled in fury as he turned the head of his spear at the Governor-General once more. However, one look from the girl rendered him passive once more.

Just who was this person to easily command one of the great custodians? There was no doubt about it anymore. She was definitely the superior of the golden demigod.

The question was, how? How could anyone except for a Primarch, able to command the bodyguards of the Emperor.

Jonathan was a smart man. He had to be to survive in all the wars he fought. Therefore, he used his deductive skills to immediately assess the situation, coming to an impossible conclusion to the identity of the girl.

Donning a bewildered face which held the utmost amount of surprise, the man thought,

"No, it can't be. I must be overthinking this."

However, the next words of the girl turned the Governor-General's world upside down, shaking his faith to the core.

With that same compassionate face which the word beauty could not come close to describing, she announced,

"Greetings, Governor-General Jonathan Lance. I am Mal, blood daughter of the Emperor."

Jonathan's jaw had long dropped to the ground, his eyes panicking looking everywhere around him. The guardsmen nearby began to whisper amongst themselves, as if they were not soldiers, but gossiping girls in high school.

If someone had said this in a normal situation, every guardsman in sight would have turned their las-rifles on them and immediately purged them for their heresy.

However, this situation was vastly different. After all, the custodian before the girl passively agreed with what she said, nodding his head in a confirming gesture. Based on his behavior earlier, it would seem that Mal was speaking the truth.

Gulping, the Governor-General decided on his next course of action. After all, he couldn't just believe what the girl said, even if she had a custodian with her. It was his duty as the leader of his men and a loyal follower of the Emperor to question Mal's claims. At least that was what he thought.

Eyeing the golden giant behind the small girl, Jonathan's sweat began to drip down his brow in liters, his voice which not even an invasion force of Tyranids could break, was now nervous and stuttering.

This was natural after all. If what Mal said was true, then he could be branded for heresy because of his question. If the girl was lying, then if he followed her, he would definitely be branded for heresy.

"I-I apologise f-rom the bottom of my heart, b-but, may I see proof of y-your claim?"

This seemed to break the last straw for the custodian named Valerian, as he shouted once more, the entirety of his armored body shaking in pure, unfiltered rage.

"HOW DAR-"

He stopped immediately when Mal's voice became cold and stern. A voice that was befitting of the best commissars and commanders Jonathan had ever seen.

"Valerian. Stop."

At this, the custodian quickly knelt down, his tone still slightly angry.

"I beg for your forgiveness."

Mal sighed.

"Just stay calm. I really don't want one of my subordinates to be famous for killing random people he assumed to be insulting me."

She smiled lightly.

"You'll never make any friends that way."

Both the Governor-General did not know whether that was a joke or not. The latter stood up, quickly recovering from his bout of anger.

"Understood."

The giant stood behind Mal once more, this time peaceful for good.

The girl then looked up, as if in thought.

"Hmm. So you want proof of my identity."

Two seconds later, Mal grinned wickedly.

"Well, fine. Just don't blame me if you can't breathe."

Before Jonathan could ask the girl what she meant, his world suddenly turned a shade of gold.

It was as if he was staring into the sun itself. That was the only way he could describe it.

Mal had suddenly changed, an aura of absolute power and authority surrounding her. Golden energy rolled off her body in visible waves of mist as a halo formed over her head. Her eyes, now golden, twinkled almost playfully.

For the guardsmen, it was if they were being pressed to the ground by the foot of an imperial knight. They were barely able to breathe through the pressure Mal secreted, only staring at her shining form in absolute wonder and awe.

Jonathan's mind suddenly drifted to a memory. A memory when his mother had shown him a mosaic of the Emperor, teaching him how to pray to the lord of mankind.

He could still remember the thoughts he had back then.

"Wow. He's so cool!"

Even though her hard labor, his mother had always found the time to impart to him the stories of the Emperor's exploits, as she knew that they were his favorite.

It was Jonathan's secret dream to become someone like the Emperor, strong, charismatic kind. Although that dream had long since been shattered by the reality of war, it was rekindled by the sight of the smiling person in front of him.

He looked to her with the same eyes he regarded the Emperor mosaic all those years ago, full of admiration and wonder.

The two images seemed to blend together for him, resurrecting his deceased ambition all those years ago.

As the man stared at the girl, no, the goddess before him, excreting so much charisma, power, and most importantly, compassion, he could only think,

"Ah, what have I been doing all these years?"

In an instant, however, it seemed that Mal's power had completely turned off, leaving only a group of panting and sweating guardsmen behind.

She was instantly back to being a normal girl, smiling at the recovering Governor-General, lying in a pile of his own limbs on the ground.

"Do you believe me now?"

Valerian POV

The sheer audacity of those mortals troubled the custodian to no end. It was like they were asking to be purged like the worms they were.

Such insults towards the daughter of the Emperor himself was not to be forgiven. Every drop of blood in Valerian's body told him this.

Despite that, his mistress had instantly forgiven the transgressions of those sinners, even being kind enough to humor the heretical question that commander had asked her, showing her great presence to the lowly mortals before her.

Such kindness was a rare sight in the Imperium, and personally, not unwelcomed by the custodian. Just by the short time he had spent with her, he respected Mal more than anyone else already.

She was a unique existence, one that would not appear again no matter how many years passed.

The shield-captain had made up his mind when he was entrusted with his mission, but this new sight had just reinforced it.

He would guard Mal until the end of time, or die trying.

Mal POV

It didn't take that long to completely convince the guardsmen to stay on the defensive and leave everything to her. Despite the strange request, she had been pleased to see that the soldiers accepted it without any questions.

"Ah, the power of faith saves me again."

She had not completely unsealed her power at that moment as the regular humans before her would have died in a matter of seconds. However, she couldn't hold back too much either.

Mal grinned. The expression on that guy in the commander outfit was just too funny. It changed every minute into something even funnier than before.

"Honestly, is that guy a comedian or something? I thought he was a soldier at first glance, but his behavior is just too funny for that to be true."

The wolverine claws he had just added to the hilarity of the situation.

"Why the hell does he even have the sword if he has those? Seriously."

Mal smiled with humor before becoming serious again.

"Now, it's time to visit the Sisters of Battle."

So far, her plan was succeeding.

To any reasonable commander out there, what she was attempting to do was idiocy, stupidity at its finest. However, to her, it made sense. After all, the plan would preserve the lives of all the Imperium's soldiers on the planet and enable her to use her crowd control abilities without any restraint. There was no doubt in her mind that she would be able to handle everything in this world.

This was why she wanted to make all the Imperial forces on the planet stand down and leave all the fighting to her. Possibly the Eldar too.

It was truly an idiotic and ridiculous plan, and she loved every last detail.

Vylira Jessiael POV

Sister Vylira Jessiael was a praised commander of the Sisters of battle, a veteran of many battles. Many said that her faith was only matched by her prowess in battle, a statement she disagreed with.

After all, for her, the two were so interconnected that treating them as two separate things were incomprehensible to her.

Vylira knew her sworn duty to the Emperor was to purge the unclean, killing being a form of prayer to her. The slaughtering of enemies was her holy book, her salvation.

Of course, she engaged often in regular prayer, but she knew that the most effective to show her faith to the Emperor was to destroy the enemies of mankind.

This was why she was here in the first place, to purge all the heretics on the planet, doing the work of the Emperor.

Eyes burning with righteous anger, the sister gripped her holstered bolter tightly.

"How dare those heretics turn their backs on the kindness of the Emperor? A thousand deaths wouldn't be enough for their actions."

Addressing her sisters outside of their base, she shared her anger with them, her words scorching with the heat of pure fury.

"Sisters! We-"

Just as she was about to continue her speech, however, the appearance of two figures gained her attention.

In a flash of golden light, they appeared, a giant golden man and a small girl.

Instantly noticing the presence of the custodian, Vylira knelt down on one knee, her sisters doing the same with unmatched grace.

It could have just have been her imagination, but it appeared that the custodian actually hummed in satisfaction of their actions.

The sisters of battle were quick to adapt to their new situation, making the situation appear as if they had expected the arrival of the custodian and his companion.

Vylira asked in her mind, now noticing the cheerfully smiling girl.

"Who is that girl beside the honored custodian? She does not seem to be touched by the flames of war. No, definitely not. Not with that smile on her face. Such compassion does not belong on the face of a soldier. If so, then what is she? Why has the custodian brought her to us?"

Before Vylira could greet her two new guests, the giant quickly spoke, his voice shaking the ground itself.

"My mistress seeks an audience with the leader of Sisters sent here. Where is she? Time is of the utmost importance."

Vylira frowned.

"Mistress? He can't mean the girl next to him. She is far too- No! Such questions are the source of weakness! And weakness is the path to heresy!"

The sister replied stoically,

"I am her, holy guardian."

The girl beside the giant stepped forwards, greeting the sister cheerfully. Her face seemed to radiate an aura of innocence which would usually be found in a girl half her age.

"Greetings, sister. It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

Vylira wasn't sure what to think. Despite her best efforts, she felt the heretical questions gnawing away at the walls of her faith.

"This girl… is the master of a custodian?"

Before the sister could answer, the girl quickly said,

"It's going to take a lot longer if I talk, so I'll just prove my identity to you like this."

Before the sister could ask her what she meant, the girl transformed, completely overloading Vylira's senses.

Now, she had seen living saints before, being lucky enough to observe the holy champions of the Emperor during the most bloody of wars.

She basked their presence, felt the blessed heat of their holy fire on her skin.

However, it couldn't even compare to the presence in front of her at this moment. The saints were only able to excrete this amount of power when they were charging their most powerful attacks. However, this girl was able to maintain that easily, as if it was natural to her.

Instantly, every sister was on the ground, flat and gasping for breath. Like the guardsmen, they were not able to withstand the pressure exerted by the girl in her true form.

However, unlike the guardsmen, the ground beneath them cracked and shuddered, as the pressure acting on them was enough to break through solid rock.

Before any of the sisters could finish their thoughts, however, the girl instantly returned to normal, as if the previous events were but an illusion.

The small sister-sized craters on the ground said otherwise.

As the sisters stood up, shaking from the pressure exerted upon them, the girl smiled, satisfied.

"I will not impart my identity to you, but let's just say that right now, I'm the strongest being on the planet."

Walking towards the sisters, who were now kneeling in reverence, Mal bent down to face sister Vylira on the same level.

"Therefore, as one of the Emperor's chosen, I would like to make a request."

The sister could only nod when she stared into those beautiful violet eyes, shining with playfulness and intelligence.

She knew that the girl before her was definitely an angel sent by the Emperor himself. There was no other possible explanation. No amount of trickery could fake that aura, so similar to one of living saints.

So, faced with this holy saint with the blessing of her god, Vylira could only consent.

"I will strive to meet your expectations, my lady."

The girl's smile widened.

"Good."

Mal POV

Dealing with religious zealots had apparently become Mal's specialty. After all, it helped a lot when she was the literal blood daughter of the god they worshipped.

Overall, she knew instantly that the sisters would be much more easily swayed than the guardsmen.

She had given express orders to the sisters of battle to stay out of combat and to let her handle everything. Mal also explicitly forbid any of the sisters to die.

She had developed a secret soft spot for the warrior nuns after seeing their dedication to her father. It was something like the idea of loving someone because they love what you love.

It was a feeling difficult to explain to someone who did not know it well.

Seeing the sisters' trust in her father after spending a few hours with them, the sheer amount of faith they put into their prayers to him put tears in Mal's eyes. It was just that moving, albeit oddly.

The sisters had been confused at Mal's orders but had accepted them, without question. When Mal said that she could explain the reason to them, they actually refused, saying something strange about questions being the road to heresy.

Mal had simply shrugged and brushed it off as being something in their religious beliefs. She wasn't that well versed in the sisters' lore and she wouldn't pry too much.

Therefore, after spending a few hours with them, which was more like the sisters kneeling and using her as a living idol to pray for several hours, Mal left, leaving them more zealous and fanatical than ever, thanks to being in close proximity with her.

"Now then, it's time to pay those property stealers a visit."

Nathanel Bariel POV

Captain Nathanel Bariel was a proud space marine. No, even the word proud would not do him justice.

He was prideful, so incredibly so, that it had almost transformed into a form of arrogance.

However, even so, the man's leadership was worthy enough for him to be named the leader of his current mission. The man was a veteran of many wars, walking out of each one with a grin on his face and the blood of heretics on his power sword.

Among the Blood Ravens, Nathanel commanded a great deal of respect and reverence. His men were ready to die on his orders in the flick of a wrist.

In this current mission, he was to be advised by brother-librarian Gadriel Kalaziel, a powerful psyker acknowledged by his brothers and feared by the enemies of mankind.

He was also a brilliant strategist.

The man was calm and logical, never speaking in any situation.

Gadriel was truly an Astartes whom Nathanel acknowledged and respected. The captain voiced no complaints when the psyker was assigned to be his advisor, simply grinning in glee.

Now, they were both before their loyal space marines, defending a base from the invading Ork forces.

The space marines had quickly secured half of the ice continent, the other half already secured by Eldar forces.

Strangely, the scheming xenos did not attack the marines, only focused on the Necrons.

Seeing this, Gadriel had quickly advised Nathanel to launch an attack on them, as they were the closest force to the marines, but also because he didn't know when they would become a threat.

Eldar were scheming and mysterious. With their illusions and clairvoyance, there was no telling what they would do.

However, as the leaders prepared for the assault, fortune suddenly favored the tricksters, as hordes of greenskins emerged from the forests near the ice continent, determined to take the land of snow for themselves.

Why they did this, no one knew. After all, Orks were even harder to predict than Eldar, simply because of the reason that there was nothing to predict.

Most of them were near mindless, fighting aimlessly with the nearest forces near them.

At the time, both the librarian and captain cursed.

As the Orks came from the jungle to attack their bases, the Eldar could easily take advantage of this and form a pincer attack, as they were directly behind the space marine's location.

It was truly a horrible scenario.

However, convinced that the entire event was simply a test from the Emperor, the captain forged on, determined to wipe out the Orks before fighting the Eldar. Gadriel had reluctantly agreed. After all, as the marines were fighting the Orks, they would give a perfect opportunity for the Eldar to strike, a chance that they would not miss.

Even so, splitting their forces evenly to fight these two threats was a foolish course of action. Neither the captain nor the librarian were delusional to think that they could take on both the Eldar and Orks at the same time.

Now, both leaders were at the Ork warfront, leading their brothers in an open shootout between the two forces in the ice continent, the ground slippery and unreliable.

One misstep could lead to being engulfed by the water underneath, left to the carnivorous predators of the biome.

Of course, they wouldn't be able to be able to penetrate Astartes power armor, nor would the marines drown thanks to its life support function, but they would still sink, taking them out of the fight for good.

As both leaders began to fire their weapons into the green tide, the Orks simply screamed back and began to shoot their guns wildly.

Nathanael could feel quite a few of the primitive bullets of the greenskins malform against his power armor, not even causing dents in the beautifully decorated golden treasure.

Thousands of lead projectiles flew into the air in multiple directions, only a small percentage hitting their intended targets.

Orks simply did not understand the concept of aiming.

The sounds of firearms filled the battlefield as both sides shot at each other with a devoted gusto, one side, for the sake of their Emperor, and the other, for the sheer thrill of it.

The Blood Ravens were small in number, while the Orks outnumbered them ten to one.

However, the supersoldiers did not falter, as they knew that they were the creations of the Emperor himself. They would not allow themselves to fail, as such a result was a dishonor many times worse than death.

The captain roared in righteous anger as he fired his sacred bolter at a greenskin, reducing the xeno's body to a bloody mess.

As another one charged him, roaring in bloodthirst, Nathanel swung his activated powersword, the prized treasure halving its body in a shower of blood, its primitive stone axe now dropping to the icy ground.

Five more now approached him, shooting at his armor with their guns while swinging their axes wildly.

"Haa!"

Meeting the greenskins' charge, the captain had quickly ended one with a shot from his bolter, cleanly slicing through two more.

The third one landed a hit upon the space marine, the brute's axe attempting to savagely tear across his power armor to no avail. Sparks flew as the wretched thing's handle erupted in a shower of wood, the object too weak to be used by the unnaturally strong Orks.

Seeing this, Nathanel swung his bolter pistol at the greenskin, the blessed artifact completely shattering the creature's skull.

Looking to his side, the captain saw his advisor fighting just as valiantly as he, if not more so.

With a calm and collected expression on his face, the librarian shot his plasma pistol towards a greenskin, completely melting its upper body down to the bone.

With a prayer to the Emperor on his lips, Gadriel holstered his pistol, aiming his gloved fingers towards the approaching horde of greenskins.

The air around the librarian cackled with unnatural energies as pure blue lightning was channeled through him.

As the electricity exited his hand, it immediately went to an Ork, making it scream in absolute pain before reducing the brute to a heap of black dust. This wasn't the end, however, as the lightning seemed to gain an almost sentient life, seeking out any nearby Orks to grant them the same demise.

It was almost as if the lightning was alive.

Now, the Orks looked to the man with varying degrees of fear, few now brave enough to actually attack him.

One of the greenskins actually had the audacity to run away, fearful for its life. A highly unusual thing to do for an Ork. it was probably mutated.

However, Just as it did so, the sound of metal clashing against ice stopped the Ork in its tracks.

A red mechanical eye stared into the grunt's soul as all the Orks around them stopped what they were doing.

Even the space marines were slightly shocked by this. However, their training took over instantly as they were back to fighting in less than a second.

It was bad, really bad.

Both the captain and librarian were wary now.

For Warboss Utzmar Strongkleava has entered the battlefield.

The gigantic Ork, covered in dirty metal contraptions which had no right to function according to the laws of physics, snarled at the small soldier who had tried to run away.

The poor greenskin did not even have the time to think as his entire body was picked up by the Warboss' massive power klaw and instantly smashed into the icy plate which served as the ground.

His head was instantly demolished, becoming nothing but a green and red stump.

However, this wasn't the end, as the Warboss smashed the Ork's body on the ground over and over again until it was nothing but red paste.

Shouting to the rest of his forces who looked to him fearfully, Utzmar instantly raised his troops' morale.

"Yer gits betta not be dink'n uv runn'n away! I'll rip yer zog'n spines strait out yer droats!"

In a booming mechanical voice produced by the warboss' mechanical jaw, this message was announced. Now no orc would run from the battle as they knew the fate which would befall them if they tried.

Therefore, with renewed vigor, the crude force charged as one.

"WAAAGH!"

The captain cursed. This was even worse than he thought. His forces would be overwhelmed at this rate.

In fact, many marines had already died, taken down by lucky shots or powerful melee attacks by powerful Ork weapon. Nathanel had underestimated the power of the Orks and neglected to take the required amount of soldiers for the task. He was now paying for that arrogance.

As he saw the numbers of his brothers drop exponentially, he quickly shouted,

"Retreat! We shall meet them at our fortified base!"

The Librarian simply nodded his head as he quickly began to rally the marines.

The Blood Ravens began to vacate the battlefield, still firing at the horde of Orks chasing them.

They had lost this small skirmish, but the battle was not yet hopeless. They would resume the battle at their base, backed up by their brothers stationed at the locations and the powerful bolter turrets built there.

However, mere seconds after he gave that order, something completely unexpected happened, something that the commander would remember for the rest of his life.

As the warboss shouted in rage, shooting towards the marines with his firearm in a fit of rage, the Ork boyz behind him charged with extreme vigor, overwhelming the Astartes in an increased rate.

Enraged by his opponents' cowardice, the warboss developed tunnel vision towards the one who orchestrated this dishonorable retreat. Staring right into the eyes of the veteran commander, Utzmar charged at Nathanel with unbound rage, completely pulverizing every Ork and marine in his way.

Ready to meet the charge with his blade, the commander showed no fear as he readied how bolter and sword in anticipation.

For Nathanel, time seemed to slow at that moment, the warboss charging towards him moving forward only inches at a time.

The man took a deep breath and sighed. He would not be regretful of death if he could take the warboss with him. Judging by the velocity of the hulking green mass, even if it was cut in two by the powersword, the rest of the body would crash into him, resulting in a likely death.

Even so, Nathanel stood his ground. This was because he knew that his sacrifice would not be in vain. Far from it.

Even if he died, there was still Gadriel who could lead the forces. The librarian would do well as a commander, perhaps even surpassing him.

However, the same could not be said for the Orks. There was none in their ranks except for Utzmar who would qualify as a warboss. This meant that if he could remove the leader from the equation, then the rest of the greenskins would be disorganized and easy to purge.

Therefore, there was nothing to fear.

With a confident smile on his face, Nathanel aimed his sword at the Ork before him, his sturdy legs bent and ready to launch a leaping slash.

There would only be one strike allowed, no such thing as a second chance.

Closing his eyes in thought, Nathanel calculated his next actions, thousands of complex algorithms processing in his enhanced mind. Eventually, he found a suitable method of attack.

Instantly, his eyes were wide open, radiating determination that few could match. Tensing his body, Nathanel stood his ground.

He was ready.

At least, that was what he thought.

However, the immediate teleportation of two individuals to his current location completely shredded any and all preparations he made, throwing them to the wind.

As the space marines watched in wonder, two figures emerged from the golden beam of light which resulted from their teleportation.

A young girl clad in the golden uniform of a commissar, and a golden giant, clad in a suit of armor worth the bounty of an entire world.

Gadriel's eyes widened with surprise, his usually calm composure slightly broken.

As the girl and the giant arrived, the Ork warboss did nothing to slow his charge, only accelerating with newfound anger. How dare these humies get between him and his target?

The custodian's expression could not be interpreted as his face remained covered by his golden helm. However, it could be easily speculated to be indifferent.

Turning his spear on the approaching mass, the guardian adopted a combat stance.

However, the same could not be said with the girl.

Her eyes widened with shock as her jaw dropped to the ground.

She did not announce anything as the warboss charged at her, only covering her face with a hand in a gesture of tiredness.

In perfect low gothic, the gold-clad girl muttered.

"Seriously?"

Mal POV

Mal's surprise at the sight before her passed within a second's time, replaced with a tired expression that just wanted to end things.

Yes, she wanted to teleport into the battlefield to surprise the army of Orks. However, she did not want to teleport in front of a charging warboss, especially not an enraged one.

That was just too unfortunate, wasn't it?

Not only that, but it was embarrassing too. Such a blunder would only result in a scolding from her father.

Then again, it was fine. She could take advantage of this.

"Oh well, It's not like he can hurt me or anything. Let's just do this."

Mal could tell in an instant that the warboss wasn't anything special. She could easily defend against his charge. After all, it wasn't nearly fast or powerful enough to be harmful.

"Ugh, this reminds me of the times Dad threw house sized conjured boulders at me and asked me to dodge or defend. Seriously! How is that even considered training?! Those rocks actually broke the sound barrier with how fast they were going!"

Mal smiled.

"Well, this guy isn't nearly that powerful. This 'charge' of his is extremely slow, not to mention impractical. I mean, how is it even possible to run with those legs of his? They're completely out of proportion with his body mass!"

Sighing again, the girl shook her head. She wanted to try something with the Orks, an experiment if you would.

"Oh well, that just makes my job easier. There's that thing I've always wanted to try with the Orks. Let's test it out."

By this point, Mal had already marked the warboss' army as her guinea pig.

An extremely creepy smile, befitting of a mad scientist, graced her lips.

The warboss was about to have an extremely bad time.

Valerian POV

Just looking at the filthy greenskin before him brought the shield-captain unmeasurable disgust.

"It is this kind of xeno that destroys all humanity has ever strived for, crushing the dreams of trillions under their savage heels. And for what? The thrill of the battle, the urge to fight? They are truly disgusting."

The custodian stared into the rage-filled eyes of the charging warlord, his own orbs filled with boundless determination and righteous anger.

His grip tightened on his paragon spear.

"COME XENO! FACE THE MIGHT OF THE EMPEROR"S CUSTODIANS!"

Either Utzmar didn't hear him, or he just didn't care. The massive Ork, even larger than the guardian, continued to barrel forward with a savage battle cry, intent on destroying everything in his way.

Valerian could feel the reverent gazes the space marines directed towards to him.

The battle between a warboss and a custodian. Wild, hateful green against disciplined, righteous gold. A hateful tiger pouncing upon the noble lion.

However, this fight would not truly come to pass, as the girl behind the custodian lifted up a hand, aiming her palm at the charging warlord.

Gadriel POV

He had regained composure after the appearance of the custodian and his strange companion, turning around to order his men to stand there ground. After all, what was there to fear? A custodian was with them now.

However, just as he did so, Gadiel immediately turned his head back, staring at the sight before him in wonder and shock. Something even more interesting than the Custodian's appearance just presented itself.

The girl in the commissar's outfit raised a golden-gloved hand, a strange smile on her face.

The librarian was almost knocked off of his feet at what happened next.

Instantly, it became much harder for him to breathe, the air becoming many times denser.

The girl had changed completely, a golden halo floating above her head, her eyes shining with a beautiful golden luster.

Some of the Orks were crushed to the ground by the pressure she exerted, breaking through the ice, but ignored by the now frightened creatures underneath. The same could not be said for the marines, as they felt it, but stayed strong.

As the Librarian was psyker, the effect on him was amplified many times over, as he could somewhat observe the girl's true nature.

She was like a golden beacon of light, shining through the darkness of the Warp.

"This… This is!..."

Gadriel was not foolish. He was a devotee of the Emperor, worshipping him since the start of his existence. He had felt his idol's aura before from afar, and this girl was able to match it completely.

There could be only one conclusion.

This was probably the only time in the Librarian's life that his composure was broken.

Smiling with glee, Gadriel commanded his soldiers.

"Rally to the holy saint! She shall be the one to guide us to victory!"

The marines around him roared with immeasurable joy, increasing their vigor a thousand-fold.

After all, they might not have been able to sense her presence, but they were able to feel her aura and see her physical form. The visual confirmation along with the Librarian's words was enough for them to believe in the identity of the girl. They trusted their brother with their life after all.

Gadriel's smile widened.

"The battle is won."

Mal POV

Raising a hand, the girl released some of her aura and lifted warboss Utzmar into the air, angering the Ork, causing him to flail about, shooting his large machine gun in all directions. Valerian immediately moved in front of her, blocking all the rounds meant for her with his body armor.

Mal smiled at the gesture. It would seem that Valerian really took his job seriously. If she didn't know better, she would even think that he valued her on an emotional level.

Still, there was no need for this action, as the bullets seemed to be moving at the speed of an ant crawling with a single limb. They were ridiculously slow.

Mal could easily evade all of them, not like she needed to, as some of the projectiles were fired into the Orks behind the warboss and the surrounding area.

Clenching her teeth in anger at the stupidity of the Ork, Mal yelled,

"Learn to aim you dimwit!"

Valerian and the marines behind her were visibly surprised at this while the warboss snarled and kept shooting.

Looking at the gun, Mal sighed.

"Jeez. Just how long is the magazine on that thing? Does this guy even need to reload?"

Seeing something this stupid annoyed Mal to no end. Even if it was to be expected from an Ork, the sheer idiocy of wasting ammunition in battle was too much for the girl.

Instantly, Mal lifted her arm and brought it down in a swift motion.

As a result, the warboss was smashed into the ice plates beneath him at a speed approaching that of sound's, screaming all the way.

The warboss, now angered even more, lifted himself from the somehow unbroken ice, which was reinforced by Mal's power, showing that not much damage had been inflicted upon him. He snarled at the girl and custodian warily, becoming somewhat more careful in his actions.

Mal smiled slightly.

"This is a good opportunity to see what he can do in a fight. Yes, I think I'll test him a little."

Turning her gaze towards Valerian, Mal stated,

"Valerian, give me your spear."

The custodian was confused by this order but complied nonetheless, handing the weapon to his mistress in reverence.

Mal now turned her gaze upon the warboss, who was now aiming his machine gun at them, preparing to fire.

In a single crushing motion with her hand, the brutal, illogical weapon was bent and compressed into a useless mess of metal resembling a paper wad. The warboss screamed in pain, considering the gun was attached to his arm.

"Now, Valerian, please give this Ork a fair fight. I will intervene if things get too dangerous."

In an instant, the helmeted warrior seemed to understand the intentions of his mistress, nodding his head.

"Understood. I shall tear apart the foul xeno with my bare hands. Interference will not be necessary."

Mal smiled kindly.

"Someone's confident."

Valerian quickly moved towards the warboss, prepared to fight with nothing but his fists.

Seeing this, the Ork snarled, charging towards him and rearing back his power klaw.

"When i'z done with ya i'll rip that little humie behind ya apart!"

Valerian POV

When he heard those words from the monster, he wasn't sure what to think.

The custodian didn't know whether to laugh or get angry. The warboss seemed to assume that Mal was like every psyker out there, powerful at a range but fragile in combat.

If Valerian had not been angered to the point of murder, then he might have actually chuckled.

He replied back with vigor, controlling his rage.

"ON MY DEAD BODY, GREENSKIN!"

Sprinting forward, Valierian sought to do battle with the warboss at a melee range. After all, it was what Mal seemed to want.

"WAAAGH!"

Utzmar swung his power klaw horizontally, hoping to catch the custodian with its deadly power field.

However, the custodian caught the warboss's metallic arm, grasping the non-deadly part of the lethal weapon.

He was forced to put in all his strength to stop the blow, the power of a warboss outmatching even that of a custodian. Fingermarks were imprinted in the dirty metal of the klaw, the custodian's grip slightly crushing the weapon.

Utzmar bellowed in rage, attempting to break open Valierian's armor with a punch from his other hand, which used to hold a gun.

Seeing this, the custodian let go of the power weapon, striking the metallic jaw of the warboss with his fist, leaving a fist-shaped imprint with the blow. He could feel the crunch of metal and bone on his hand, smiling in satisfaction.

This seemed to rattle Utzmar's entire brain, reducing the power of his strike to an absolute zero. He was stunned.

Using these precious seconds, Valerian roared with fury he swung at the warboss with a brutal uppercut, his golden fist becoming a barely visible blur, hitting Utzmar at the exact same spot as his last strike, completely pulverizing the Ork's already damaged jaw, reducing bone to dust and metal to scrap.

Now, the warboss looked as if he did not possess a jaw at all, only a damaged mass of reddened metal in the shape of an oval.

Utzmar's rage reached a new level as he discovered that he couldn't even scream anymore thanks to the deformation of his jaw, reducing him to a state of constant pain.

Garbled metallic sounds came from his mouth, completely unidentifiable to anyone present.

The Orks around him dared not interfere, for they knew, the boss was mad. And once he was this mad, there was bound to be a krumping.

The space marines simply stared at this in awe, the sight of a demigod battling the hulking greenskin forever burned into their memory.

Any fighting had stopped at this point, everyone present only focused on the two opponents.

Valerian knew he was weaker than the warboss, who could probably bench press a whole elephant.

Therefore, he had to rely on speed instead. Now the Ork was temporarily stunned, he sent an overwhelming barrage of punches at all the vital points on Utzmar's body, hoping to cripple his opponent.

He remembered Mal telling him about this technique, if you could even call it that. She said she saw it somewhere, but did not elaborate further. The girl had stated something about Valerian being able to do it, and that it would impress a large number of people.

The custodian did not hesitate to use this technique bestowed upon him simply a day ago, as he knew that it came from Mal, who far outstripped him in combat.

Besides, he did not think that compassionate mistress of his would lie about something like this.

"HAAAAAA!"

Dozens of strikes arrived every second, finding purchase in a weakly protected body part or bone, leaving a head-sized crater in its wake.

Even to the nearby space marines, who possessed enhanced optical senses, it appeared as if the custodian possessed a multitude of arms, speeding forward to create booming crunches as it met fragile resistance.

At this point, it didn't look like Valerian was punching the Ork anymore. It was as if he was smiting the greenskin with divine power, his golden armor combined with the speed of the punches creating a lighting effect which seemed godly, as if he was blessed by the Emperor himself. Many of the soldiers were awed by this show of strength, prayers on their lips and their resolve strengthened a hundredfold.

Yes, to say that Utzmar died that day… would be a great understatement. His body was reduced to a bloodied and brutalized slab of green fungus with a covering of completely reshaped metal. What was left over could not be called the body of a sentient being anymore. It was something like a green and red blob with hints of yellow.

As Valerian stared into the completely deformed mess that used to be the warboss's face, having stopped his barrage after pulverizing every single bone in the greenskin's metal-covered body, the custodian took a deep breath and turned around.

Facing Mal with his now bloodied and gore-splattered armor, he kneeled.

"Your order had been fulfilled, my lady."

Mal POV

"D-Did he really do the thing I told him to? That was just a joke! It's not even a move! I just made it up on the spot based on the shows I watched! How is that even able to be effective in combat!? Moreover, how is it so effective! Even I'm I'm thinking of using that ridiculous technique now!"

Grimacing, Mal reassessed her influence.

"I have to be careful in the future. Anything I say might be taken way too seriously."

However, as such thoughts passed, she smiled at Valerian, covered in bone fragments, blood, and gore.

With pride in her voice, Mal announced,

"You have done well, my custodian. Even my father would have been impressed with the strength you have just shown."

Mal didn't need x-ray vision to know that Valerian's eyes widened under his helm.

"Y-you flatter me, my lady. Saying the Emperor himself would grant me such praise. I do not deserve such an honor."

Now, turning to the Orks, Mal's whole demeanor changed, from the gentle girl from before to something more disciplined, more cruel.

It was that exact face she made when she addressed the ship captain, but more hostile.

The Orks, now leaderless, became extremely disorganized. Even so, they fought on. They were Orks after all.

The space marines fought back, full or fervor and vigor.

With the death of the warboss, the Orks' morale decreased while the marines' increased.

Soon, the cries of soldiers and the roars of firearms rang across the battlefield as the two sides fought.

Seeing this, Mal wordlessly held out a hand, aiming her fingers at the nearest Ork.

Closing her eyes, she focused power on her fingertips, unleashing it the same way as the Librarian, but with much more power.

In the midst of battle, no one except for Valerian noticed this act, quickly decapitating his nearest foe to focus his attention on his mistress.

Mal had done this many times before, having trained with her father for such things in the Warp section they lived in. The Emperor had adjusted the physics of the realm to accommodate the use of her psychic powers the same way as she would in realspace. Mal had honed her skills in everything except for maybe teleportation, as that did not work no matter how much the Emperor changed things.

Therefore, Mal was extremely confident in what she was about to do.

As her power flared up again, almost visible traced of psychic energy radiated from her being, slightly lifting her into the air.

As the golden sparks of her holy lightning coiled around her fingertips like miniature serpents, Mal opened her eyes.

With an expression fit for a cold, unfeeling machine, the lightning was unleashed, elongated strands of golden electricity launching from her fingertips and finding itself electrocuting the nearest Ork.

Before the warband of greenskins could even react, the lightning was already within their midsts, its golden beams swiftly targeting the Orks as if it was alive.

This ability was fundamentally the same as Gadriel's, but on a much greater scale.

The Emperor's blessings amplified Mal's already great psychic power, enabling her to spread her abilities across an absurd amount of distance.

In an instant, the greenskins assaulting the space marines were completely annihilated, their bodies being reduced to fine black dust along with their weapons and armor.

The Blood Ravens could only look in shock at the sight before them, wondering where their former opponents had gone.

The two commanders stared at Mal in surprise, their eyes completely glued on the girl who was now coughing because of the black dust which had entered her throat.

There really was no denying it anymore. The girl was a champion of the Emperor himself.

Gadriel was almost gleeful, drunk in the powerful psychic presence Mal emitted, his faith amplified.

The commander knelt down on one knee along with the rest of his company as he sought to spoke with his new savior, only to be cut off by her words to the custodian.

Kneeling, the golden-armored giant appeared to be waiting for orders.

Smiling at this, Mal said to him,

"Valerian, I would like you to stay with the Blood Ravens and defend against the Orks. Without a Warboss, their army should now dissolve into feuding clans, but you can never be too sure. Request the help of the Imperial Guard if you need to."

Eyes widening at this unexpected order, Valerian began to protest.

"B-"

Mal continued, cutting him off.

"Valerian, it is my decree for you to protect the space marines. Their numbers are few and they are prone to an assault from both the Eldar and Orks. They need your help."

Mal had asked the Sisters of Battle to explain to her the current geography of the planet, and many things had been revealed.

"But my lady, it is my sworn duty to protect you. If anything were to happen to your well being, then death would be too good a punishment for me."

Mal slapped her face with a hand.

"Geez, how am I supposed to get this guy to listen? He's as stubborn as a mule!"

Therefore, Mal simply spoke the truth, voicing the true reason for her concerns.

In a voice which was stern but soft, she addressed Valerian, her tone amplifying the effect of her words.

"Please, Valerian. They are like nephews to me. Even if I have never met my brothers, I do not want their gene-sons to suffer more than necessary."

The statement was truly earnest too, as Mal truly cared for the Blood Ravens. Since she had no family in her life, she was now obsessed with the concept of it, going as far as to accept people she had never met as her brothers, and by extension, their gene-sons as nephews.

Gadriel almost gasped at this revelation, catching himself in the last second.

"I-is it true? Is this holy saint truly the Emperor's daughter?"

Mal simply continued to stare at the custodian, hoping that her words would change his mind. After all, she was not the type of person who would issue commands to someone she considered somewhat close to her. Regardless of the way she formed her words, Mal would not force Valerian to comply with her order even if he refused it.

Mal would simply have to readjust her plan if Valerian said no to this request of hers.

Meanwhile, Valerian began to give in. He perceived this as an order from Mal after all. Besides, after seeing the earnestness on the girl's face, it was hard to say no. The face which seemed to reflect the heart of a young girl seemed to become much more mature as it twisted into that expression.

"D-does she truly see the space marines as being so important that she would leave me to protect them? W-what is that expression? Why is it so hard to say no when she makes that face?"

Valerian forcibly convinced himself to obey Mal's order. After all, it was his duty to protect her with his life. However, didn't the Emperor also specifically state that he was to fulfill all of Mal's orders and objectives as well.

Besides, his mistress was more than strong enough to take care of herself.

Mal locked her face in her current expression, serious and commanding. However, she was sweating rivers down her back.

"Please, Valerian! I don't want to change my new plan!"

A few seconds later, all of the tension Mal felt was relinquished, as Valerian replied.

"Yes, my lady. I shall defend these marines with my life."

Mal sighed, letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

With a smile of gratitude, she looked to her guardian.

"Thank you, Valerian."

However, just as the custodian was about to reply, Mal quickly teleported away, arriving on the other side of the icy continent.

Smiling grimly, the girl resigned herself to possibly the most difficult task she would undertake so far.

Negotiations.

"Well, I guess it's time to have a little chat with the Eldar."

Sorry, my readers, I had to rewrite a quarter of this chapter

My old version was taking this story to a place I didn't like, so I had to change it

The part I changed didn't seem to come out right, so I apologize if it is unsatisfactory


	8. The Drukhari's unlucky day

**Mal POV**

She was finally here, after a whole day of sprinting across the icy wasteland, Mal had finally discovered the Eldar's concealed base.

Yes, she could have easily discharged a psychic pulse that would have informed her of the Eldar base's location. They were not very hard to find. After all, every Eldar a lighthouse in the Warp when compared to a regular human.

Even so, if Mal had used her power on such a large scale, they would have noticed her. After all, their seers were extremely capable psykers.

In fact, they may have already predicted her arrival on their lands with their clairvoyance.

However, the future was uncertain, countless paths branching off into countless more. There were probably futures where she was hostile, peaceful, or neutral.

Mal had learned from her father that you could attempt to guide the future down the road you desired, but there were factors you would not be able to change.

For example, if a man had the chance to punch you in the face or shake your hand, you would logically lead him on the path where he would shake your hand.

However, some factors will not be under your jurisdiction, like his current mood or his relationship with his girlfriend.

Therefore, the ability of clairvoyance was nowhere as powerful as many think. Sometimes, the roads of the future branch off in so many directions that it appears as if you are not clairvoyant at all. The number of paths, how clearly they were shown, and how far the psyker could see all depended on their power.

Even if Mal was not a psyker, she knew this, as her father had told this himself.

Therefore, she would be wary of the actions of any seers, but would not be overly paranoid.

There would never be any peace if both sides were overly wary of each other.

Keeping this in mind, Mal walked forward as she saw the cloaked base of the Eldar leader, shrouded from the minds of mere mortals with the fearsome power of the Warp.

Such a fearsome illusion barrier could only be created by the most disciplined and powerful of psykers, ancient beings of incredible wisdom and strength of will who have amassed their knowledge over several centuries or millennia.

Mal knew this, and yet she thought,

_"I could make one of these, but a hundred times better..."_

Considering the girl's existence practically made her a living cheat code in the universe of 40k, this was nothing to brag about.

Mal could bring the most powerful and aged sorcerers and wyches to shame with a flick of her wrist while she only had less than three decades of training. The amount of psychic might she gained from her faith was not to be underestimated. The Emperor's blessing gave Mal a ridiculous amount of control over the Warp, not requiring her to possess any amount of self-discipline or restraint at all. It was like she was a part of the War itself.

Magnus would probably be hunched in a corner, crying at the unfairness of it all.

Mal calmly walked through the carefully crafted illusion barrier, right into the Eldar base.

To any untrained mind, the location would simply look like a large plot of icy land, with several large icebergs standing tall in the midst of it all, nothing unusual for the icy biome it was in.

Anyone who would walk into this supposed location, however, would instantly have their minds hijacked and their sense of direction completely changed.

They would quite literally walk in the opposite direction without recognizing it themselves.

In fact, even an Astartes Librarian would only be able to notice the location of the barrier if he walked within ten meters of it.

Something like this…was basic to Mal. She could quite literally do this in her sleep.

As the girl entered the base, she immediately noticed a lack of inhabitants. Yes, the structures were there. She could clearly see the barracks, webway gates, vehicle construction sites, and various other things, all made completely from wraithbone.

Their white and black coloring gave off the impression of a stereotypical scientifically advanced organization. Not only that, but the materials seemed to radiate pure psychic power, especially the activated webway gate.

Mal smiled at this. It had been a while since she felt a psychic presence of this level. It reminded her of her home back with the Emperor. Her clothing radiated a large amount of it, but that brought about a different kind of feeling.

She was only able to sense how much energy radiated from the building materials of her little cabin when her father wakened her psychic powers.

The sheer intensity of it almost knocked Mal out cold.

Of course, the space around her radiated the same energy, but on a smaller scale. It was inside of the Warp after all.

Mal had gotten so used to the indescribable energy around her that she had experienced a sense of loss when she entered realspace.

It was like moving from a burning desert to a cool city.

Of course, the wraithbone structures were nowhere as potent in energy as the Emperor's golden constructs, but they brought a sense of slight nostalgia all the same, even if Mal had only exited the Warp a while ago.

As she noticed the absence of the inhabitants, the girl frowned.

_"Where are they? It's not like the Eldar to leave their base undefended. I would be able to sense them if they were hiding, so it looks like they're actually gone. In fact, I can only sense one of them in that building in front of me."_

Apparently, there was only one Eldar in the whole base, a single psychic presence hiding within the white and black walls of what appeared to be a command center.

Before Mal could walk forward and enter the structure, however, the Eldar Farseer chose to exit the building and greet her.

From the now open door stepped the figure of a tall female, clad in beautiful black and white armor, crimson gems imprinted in certain parts of the outfit.

A mastercrafted wychblade was strapped to her left radiating powerful energy, while a powerful shuriken pistol was strapped to her right, no doubt fully loaded.

At this intimidating display, Mal was silent.

"_Hmm, so this is what an Eldar Farseer looks like. It's a lot more intimidating in real life. Especially to psykers, who can feel the sheer amount of energy she gives off."_

The Farseer's hands moved to her helmet, her armor creating a sound-alike the dispersion of steam as the artful plating concealing her face was removed.

The Eldar's face was close to perfect, milky white skin sculpted by the gods themselves. Her obsidian eyes showed wisdom and age, complimenting her outfit and dark hair, which now extended all the way to her shoulders as her helmet was removed.

Slightly bowing to Mal, the Farseer spoke in a silk-like voice, just as expected from a bio-engineered species free from almost all imperfections.

"Greetings, honored guest. I am called Farseer Lanaria of Craftworld Ulthwe."

Mal completely ignored the fact that the sentence was spoken in perfect Low Gothic. Eldar were so technologically advanced that such a thing would be easy for them.

She smiled, an expression on her face which could have made any lesser man or woman swoon and faint. However, Lanaria was an experienced Farseer of more than five hundred years. Beauty could not sway her judgment.

"Well then, can I just call you Lanaria, or Farseer? Maybe Miss Lanaria, since you are much older than me?"

The Eldar was baffled. When she scoured the Warp to see into the future, she believed she gained a good grasp on Mal's personality. She appeared to be kind, conservative, and courageous.

However, she also expected Mal to be a fearsome warrior, serious and grave, with full knowledge of the fact that time was running out for both the Imperium and the Eldar.

Lanaria did not expect a young and seemingly teenage girl who treated a possible enemy general like a random person on the street.

The Farseer expected at least some level of wariness.

"_W-What is this girl? How can she be so lax, so… cheerful? She should know how hopeless things are in this galaxy."_

Composing herself, the Eldar stated, with a hint of emotion in her voice,

"C-Call me what you will, it is of no importance."

The Farseer was being polite to initiate a fearful courtesy. Normally, she would never such such politeness to a Mon-keigh. However, considering that the existence called Mal could easily wipe all Eldar forces from the planet, she forced herself to maintain good relations with the Emperor's champion.

Mal nodded.

"Then, Lanaria, since you are not hostile towards me, does that mean you know exactly why I am here, and who I am?"

Lanaria nodded solemnly.

"Yes, we are well aware of your identity. I have scryed the Warp for visions of the possible future, and most of those futures show that you would come to us for negotiations."

The Eldar allowed herself to smile slightly.

"It would appear that you are not like the other Mon-keigh."

Mal's eyes widened before she giggled.

Staring into Lanaria's eyes, the girl stated,

"You should smile more Lanaria. It suits you much better than that sad and resigned expression."

Now it was the Farseer's turn to widen her eyes. However, she suddenly narrowed them, getting back on topic.

"Child of light, since the formalities are now over, let us begin negotiations."

As the Farseer walked into her commanding base, Mal followed behind her.

"_It would be a bad idea to read her mind. A psyker as powerful as Lanaria would instantly know what I'm trying to do. I don't want to lose the opportunity for a possible alliance with Craftworld Ulthwe."_

Soon, the two women reached the interior of the command center, the large building plenty in size and beauty.

Gesturing to a round table with two chairs, Lanaria gestured for Mal to sit.

Mal did so, noticing the intricate patterns of black and white on the strangely-shaped furniture.

As the two of them sat down, Mal asked,

"So… Why are you the only one here? Shouldn't you have a few bodyguards?"

The Eldar sighed.

"I have sent my kin to another base close to this location. Unfortunately, they are not as resilient as I when facing the powers of the Warp. Your psychic power possesses a direct correlation to _his_. Its sheer intensity would drive my people mad if they were exposed to it for an extended amount of time. In fact, It is only by restricting my own psychic vision that I have been able to keep my sanity. Even then, your presence is still blinding. It is like staring directly into a raging sun."

Mal laughed nervously and rubbed the back of her head. Looking down like a chastised child, she said in a quiet voice,

'Sorry… I didn't realize."

"_Oh no, no, no, what do I do? How the frakk am I supposed to negotiate with the Eldar if just being near me is torture? This is my restrained form too!"_

Mal frowned.

"_Ok, I'll try to restrict my power even more. Hopefully, this works."_

Mal imagined that the beacon which symbolized her power compressing within an invisible field, becoming smaller and smaller as it was further pushed into a single point.

However, such a method would not be efficient in the long run, as the power caged within the field would eventually burst free from its prison, potentially creating catastrophic consequences.

Therefore, Mal imagined a group of small openings to the sides of her barrier, letting loose the psychic energy in small controlled jets, nowhere near as intense as it would be when uncaged.

She closed her eyes while doing this, the process taking the whole of her concentration.

After a few seconds, Mal opened her eyes, sweaty and gasping for breath. Seconds later, she recovered, as the effects of the elixir came into effect.

"Better now?"

Lanaria gasped.

"H-how?"

Mal smiled.

"I can't have you people going insane every time you look at me can I?"

The Eldar was flabbergasted.

"_How is this possible? How? Just how can she conceal a psychic presence that powerful? It should be impossible!"_

However, the Farseer maintained her composure on the outside.

"I see. It is no longer like staring into a sun. I thank you for your generosity, o child of light."

Mal stuttered, only just now noticing the title.

"C-Child of light? What kind of name is that?"

"It is what my people have begun to call you, as our seers have proclaimed you to be one of the most sensible and open-minded of the Mon-keigh."

Mal blushed nervously.

"E-Even if you say that, there are more accepting humans than me…"

Lanaria continued.

"Simply judging by what I have heard, you are mostly free from one of humanity's greatest weaknesses. Arrogance. Not only are you humble, but you also hold a position of great power in the Imperium, and a powerful psyker to boot."

Mal's blushed intensified, completely ignoring the hypocrisy in that statement. After all, arrogance wasn't just the humans' greatest weakness.

"S-stop it, this is too embarrassing."

Lanaria sighed.

"I am simply stating facts. It is not meant to be flattery."

The girl fidgeted with her fingers, her face still slightly red.

"Still though, it's embarrassing to be complimented like that."

Lanaria continued, her expression becoming even more serious.

"This is why I have allowed you inside of our base. If there was a large chance that someone like you were hostile, then I would have ordered my soldiers to immediately flee the planet. After all, you are a being who could potentially decimate all of our forces with hardly any effort. I doubt that even the Avatar of Khaine would be able to best you in combat."

Mal sighed.

"Well, I am the Emperor's chosen champion after all. If I were any less powerful I would not be able to justify my position. My power is directly connected to him. Without it, I would still be a powerful psyker, but it would decrease my powers by quite a bit."

Lanaria raised an eyebrow. After all, a potential future enemy was giving away precious information for no reason. She was quite surprised.

"You do realize that this information could potentially be used against you later, right?"

Mal shrugged.

"Why would I be afraid of that? There's no way I'll actively become your enemy. It's a worthless endeavor."

Lanaria frowned.

"Please elaborate."

Mal now sat cross-legged, looking at her pinkie finger as if spotting a chip in the nail. Of course, there was no point to it, as the biomatter on the girl's hand was much sturdier than even the likes of adamantium.

"Well, I know that you people won't be a big thorn in the Imperium's side. Even if you were to do something like attack a world full of innocent people and begin a massacre, I can simply assume that it was because that planet would become a breeding ground for Chaos forces or something. I know enough about Craftworld Ulthwe to realize that you would not waste resources to mount a pointless assault. Therefore, it could be said that I somewhat trust your kind, oh proud guardians of the galaxy."

As Mal said the last part, she gave a slightly mocking bow while sitting down.

Despite the way Mal did so, Lanaria did not think it was only a half-joking gesture. She did not know how the girl knew so much about her Craftworld's affairs, but it would assume that she respected them. She did not need the power to read the minds of others to realize what Mal said was sincere. If that sincerity was faked, then the girl was the best liar in the galaxy.

"I-I see. That is indeed pleasant to hear."

Considering the girl was not knowledgeable of 40k events in certain aspects of the lore, she was not aware of the many detriments Craftworld Ulthwe has caused to the Imperium.

Mal took a deep breath.

"Well, now that this issue is out of the way, I believe it is time to discuss the fate of this planet."

Lanaria nodded.

"So, you are requesting that my forces stay their hand in attacking the other factions, as you will crush them, but do not wish for my men to be killed in the crossfire?"

Mal nodded.

"That's exactly right. Your species is few in number as it is. Besides, I do not like killing potential allies."

Lanaria smiled slightly.

"_So, there are humans like this too? The one known as Mal, I wish you had been born in the place of the Emperor. Maybe if you were the one leading your kind, our cultures would be able to coexist."_

It took exactly one conversation and a few smiles to charm Lanaria. While Mal didn't realize this, it would be quite helpful in the future.

Well, this was not unnatural as the humanity Eldarkind became accustomed to were the loud, genocidal barbarians unwilling to listen to anything, brutally destroying everything that went against their religion.

The appearance of this new, almost reasonable personality was enough to change Lanaria's whole view on humans.

"Yes, that is acceptable. I believe that you will be able to end this war single-handedly. As soon as I gather my soldiers, we will travel back to our Craftworld."

The Eldar of Craftworld Ulthwe had already foreseen the chances of Mal being able to accomplish her goal on the planet. 100%.

In fact, the only reason Lanaria had been sent was to fight in case the visions were caused by the Chaos gods, or if they were inaccurate in any way. Now that the possible mistake was proven to be unmade, there was no reason to stay anymore.

As the Farseer was about to stand up from her seat in order her men to the change in plans, Mal called out.

"Ah! Wait!"

Lanaria stared at the girl, confused.

Mal was slightly panicking.

"Um, I know that you said that I would be fine, but is it possible that the Necrons have some sort of secret Warp-sealing weapon that will nullify my powers?"

Lanaria raised an eyebrow.

Mal was much wearier than she appeared to be.

"No, I do not believe so. Even if they do, I do not think it would be able to best a being as powerful as you."

Sighing, Mal was now relaxed.

"Whew, so there's no threat on this planet."

Lanaria began to rise again.

"Now, if there are no more issues to discuss-"

Mal called out again. However, this time, Lanaria immediately took a seat. This was because the expression on Mal's face was grave, containing no remnant of the previous naive girl which used to be there. It was stern, akin to the expression worn by kings when there was a criminal to punish.

"There is one more thing."

The Eldar gulped. This expression was concerning, to say the least.

"What might it be?"

Mal stated,

"The Dark Eldar. What do you want me to do about them?"

Lanaria raised an eyebrow. This question was unexpected. She expected Mal to simply kill them, seeing that they were responsible for the extremely prolonged demise of several thousand humans.

"What do you mean?"

Mal sighed.

"I am willing to spare their lives and give them to you if you promise to never let them set foot on Imperial territory again. Even if most of them are disgusting monsters who should be put down, they are still your brethren, and for that, I am much less willing to assign them to a fate worse than death. After all, death for the Eldar means eternal enslavement to Slannesh, does it not?"

Now it was Lanaria's turn to sigh. However, inside, she was shocked.

"_She would show mercy to the Drukhari? For our sake? Is she really human? She is much kinder than even most Eldar!"_

There was a chance that Mal was simply saying this to gain the Eldar's favor, but seeing the expression on the girl's face, Lanaria was absolutely sure that it wasn't. No being, Eldar or human, could fake that amount of honesty in their eyes. It was all Lanaria could see in Mal's dark amethyst eyes as she stared into them. There was no deceit there, only compassion, with a hint of understanding.

"I understand. If you are able, please bring the Archon leading their group to my location. Unfortunetly, I cannot accept the rest of them, as they are too great a safety hazard."

There was no room for mercy to the Dark Eldar. The Aledari knew this. They were too far gone, drowned in their own pleasures. One day, their culture would inevitably fall in the worst way possible, and their souls would be claimed by She Who Thirsts. The only question was, when?

Another problem was the issue Lanaria herself brought up. It did not matter what restraints Mal used on them, the Drukhari were still dangerous, even when unarmed and shackled. There was no telling what they would do if left unsupervised even for a moment. Granted, many others on the Craftworld would take Mal on her offer. They were the Dark Eldar sympathizers who still saw the Drukhari as part of their people, although lesser than themselves. Lanaria was not one of them, especially since she had faced her depraved kin multiple times in battle. She would never forget the sheer cruelty and utter disregard for sentient life they had shown in their assaults.

However, the Archon was another matter altogether. He was a potent source of information, able to give the Craftworld Aledari more insight of the Cabals of the Dark City. The higher ups would definitely want him.

Mal nodded happily, satisfied with the explanation. Rising from her seat, she adopted her relaxed and friendly voice again, giving off the vibe of a young girl.

"Alright! So, I'll kill them all except for the Archon. Is that fine with you?"

The Farseer was shocked at this. After all, the same girl who said such kind things earlier was now suggesting the murder of a large group of sentient beings. The complete disregard of life in her words chilled Lanaria to the bone. She wasn't sure what to think of Mal any more. The girl seemed to care about life to a large degree, even suggesting to spare the Dark Eldar. However, now she would kill them without hesitation, possibly with a smile on her face.

"_J-just what is she?"_

Lanaria nodded, also standing from her seat, watching the cloaked backside of Mal as she walked away.

"_Even so, I can still respect her. She probably held back her anger for the Drukhari for the sake of my possible request for their survival. Now that she has been given permission to kill them, she will do so. This is likely the reason for her nonchalance. In that case, I can understand."_

The Farseer came to her own conclusions in her mind, attempting to connect blurry dots barely visible to her mind.

"I bid you farewell, child of light. You are the one human I can truly say I had the pleasure of meeting."

This was not a joke. As eccentric as Mal was, she was far better than most other humans in the Imperium.

Turning her head back slightly, Mal jokingly gave a two-finger salute as she continued to walk.

"It was nice to meet you too, Lanaria. Hopefully, our species' will be able to finally declare a ceasefire in the future."

The Farseer allowed herself to smile once more as the body of Mal disappeared from her building.

"_The Imperium still has hope if you are here to guide them, Mal."_

**Dark Eldar base: Mal POV**

Mal had teleported halfway across the world of Avarian V, arriving on the far east coast on the planet, once teeming with civilians and homes, now reduced to a Drukhari base, filled with slaves captured for the sole purpose of being tortured.

As the girl looked to her surroundings, what she saw was a large contrast of the previous biome. Instead of the frozen ice of the continent of snow, there was now warm sand as far as the eye can see, creating grinding sounds as Mal stepped on the gathered grains.

She had arrived at a beach, an extremely large one at that.

The clear blue ocean shone with an appealing luster from the afternoon sun, waves upon waves of seawater throwing itself upon the dark yellow sand, yet not intruding on the land to an overwhelming degree.

Strange pelican-like creatures flew in the air, forming coordinated shapes for the sake of migration or simple travel.

As she observed the scene before her, Mal's eyes began to glow with an awed light.

"_A-Amazing!"_

Considering how the girl had never seen the ocean before in her past life, the sight before her was truly a wonder to behold, a beautiful experience which would never be forgotten.

However, Mal quickly realized something. A fact that seemed to drain all the amazement and wonder from her mind, replacing it with slight sympathy and disgust.

The girl's right eye twitched madly as she finally noticed the almost disturbing absence of people on such a large plot of land such as this.

"_The people who are supposed to be enjoying this are being brutally tortured by the Dark Eldar right now, aren't they?"_

Mal had become extremely knowledgeable of the planet's geography as she learned everything she could from the commander of the Guardsmen. She knew for a fact that plenty of people should have been here, maybe not being able to enjoy the beach, but here nonetheless.

She became slightly sullen.

"_They'll probably never be able to enjoy anything in their lives ever again. Not when the Dark Eldar are done with them."_

The beauty of the ocean completely forgotten, Mal sighed in depression.

In her old life, she wouldn't have cared much for this, as Mal was never truly able to care for other human beings like how normal people did. She could sympathize with them, but would never go out of her way to help them when she could be using her time in more efficient ways.

Even after her reincarnation, some of her old apathy still remained. Nevertheless, torture by the Dark Eldar, according to the lore she had learned, was something which took the meaning of pain to a whole new level.

When she saw this world as nothing as fantasy, she was intrigued by the prospect, interested in the idea of something transcending conventional torture. However, now that everything was real, it became something truly horrible.

Mal had no idea what the torture techniques were, only that they were terrible to a ridiculous degree.

She was not a protagonist in some storybook, willing to save damsels in distress at the cost of her own wellbeing. Yes, she was more than willing to do it when there was no risk and a low amount of time lost. It was something like a hobby.

Unfortunately, Mal saw her job as a concept of larger importance than this hobby. When the duty assigned to you is the betterment of humanity and changing a whole Empire spanning millions of worlds, there was a short time for such things.

However, this occasion was special. Restoring the world of Avarian V to the hands of the Imperium was part of Mal's first debut, not just to the Imperium, but to the Eldar as well. Unfortunately, not the Tau.

Therefore, it was necessary to be as flashy and charismatic as possible. She had to give off the image of a powerhouse, kind, but brutal when necessary.

Saving these tortured slaves from the Dark Eldar would certainly help with her reputation. _Probably_.

Then again… they may be too traumatized to communicate at this point...

Emitting a sensory psychic pulse in all directions, the girl groaned. She honestly just wanted an excuse for her hobby. She herself knew this.

What could she say? Mal was just a lazy employee.

Smiling knowingly, the girl whispered,

"Let's get this over with."

**Archon Erzavayn Le'utyhr POV**

The Archon had a bad feeling, a very bad feeling. The massive sense of dread clearly felt in his stomach simply amplified it.

Nothing was the same in his camp after the effects of the psychic pulse washed over them. Every single Drukhari present became instantly paranoid and afraid after it came.

The uncomfortable feeling of dread did not come because of the power of the pulse, or its effects. No, it was because the psychic energy of that weak blast was both unfamiliar, and hauntingly familiar.

As one of the Dark Eldar who was vastly experienced and had fought in many battles, Archon Erzavayn understood that energy better than all his men.

He was beginning to regret staying for an extended amount of time in Realspace rather than returning to Commerragah with his first batch of slaves. His greed and arrogance got the better of him, however, and he set up an outpost at his current location, hoping to catch more slaves during his extended stay.

The one who sent that pulse was no normal psyker.

A normal psyker merely manipulated the power of the Warp, forcing it to obey them with the sheer power of their minds. Therefore, their power was nothing to fear, as it came from the idle chimpanzee brain of a mere human. The powers of those psykers were single, utterly alone in the Warp, reliant on nothing other than their conjurer's mental strength and fortitude.

However, this new energy was wholly different.

No, instead of being forcefully restrained by the psyker who sent it, the energy willingly obeyed their command, not even attempting to fight back in any way. Such a thing was supposed to be against the very nature of the Warp.

That was not all. No, it was simply the tip of the iceberg. This piece of information was not the part which truly terrified the Archon.

He had fought the forces of Chaos before, even taking a few slaves from their numbers. They were not his preferred prey, but they served their purpose.

However, there was only one time he faced a Chaos Sorcerer, and he barely escaped with his life.

The powers which flowed from the fingertips of that worshipper of Tzeentch were not the normal powers of a psyker. It was not forced to obey the sorcerer's orders, nor was it resisting him in any way. No, that power appeared to be as easily accessible to him as his own limbs.

When the Archon's troops had been completely incinerated by the Sorcerer's corrupted lightning, he could do nothing but run with his tail tucked between his legs. The dark psyker's mocking whispers haunted him to this very day.

No, the origins of that psyker's power resided not within himself, nor in his mental strength. His true power lied in the patronage of his god, the being of sheer power who seemed to allow the Warp to follow the sorcerer's every command without question.

Now, this new foe seemed to be able to use that same kind of energy, a worshipper of some Warp god.

However, it was none of the chaos gods, for they simply didn't radiate the sheer amount of order that energy did. Nor did any of them use gold as their central color.

On the battlefield, a sorcerer was nothing to scoff at. They could wipe out whole groups of soldiers, absolutely devastating enemy forces with their tainted warpcraft.

Even if this one worshipped a different god than the forces of Chaos, they could not be underestimated.

Therefore, for the longest time, the Dark Eldar prepared, ready for war in the full cover of their horrible ebony armor, awaiting any opponents who were foolish enough to approach.

As the Archon readied his duel power swords, curved blades coated with malevolent poison, the dread in his mind further increased.

"_No! You are an Archon! A commander! A being which haunts the nightmares of mortals! You shall not fear whatever wretch that will arrive here!"_

Even these scathing, but encouraging thoughts did nothing to ease the worry in the Drukhari's heart.

He always had a sixth sense for danger, and it was coming into full effect right now. Erzavayn's gut was practically screaming for him to run, to retreat back into the dark city which he called home. However, he would have none of it. The Archon surmised that he would at least have a chance to escape should things go downhill.

Archons were great strategists, beings with the power to calculate years into the future, their genius matched only by their sadism and disdain for life, possessing hundreds if not thousands of years of tactical experience.

However, they were not Farseers. Since the use of warpcraft has been banned in Commorragh, scrying into the future was an option not available to Erzavayn. Considering he had little to no information about the enemy who was approaching his base, he could not create a foolproof strategy against their invader.

All around the base, traps were set, hidden from sight, but very much active, each one capable of reducing the most hardened veterans to rambling fools begging for their deaths.

Surrounding the base were several fearsome Raiders and Reaver Jetbikes, their crews on high alert, ready to fight at any time.

This was excluding the foot soldiers, hardened veterans armed to the teeth in horrific armor, poisoned swords, and powerful projectile weapons. The succubi he had enlisted readied their knives and spears, licking their pale lips in anticipation in the slaughter to come.

The Archon's personal bodyguards, the Incubi, stood by his side, their mastercrafted spiked armor revealed in all their glory. Four of them readied their prized klavies at all times, ready to bisect any foe foolish enough to enter close quarters combat.

The Archon himself was clad in his ghostplate armor, his body protected by its personal force field, further enhanced by the suit's own durability. In his right hand was a brutal huskblade, able to instantly evaporate all the internal fluids of a living creature, leaving them as liquidless husks. In his left hand was his prised splinter pistol, able to launch small shards of a poisoned crystal at the enemy at incredible speed.

Even so, clad in all of his mighty wargear and protected by all of his troops, each Drukhari a master at their craft, Erzavayn still couldn't help feeling that same fear and anxiety when he first encountered that psychic pulse.

It was as if his men would do nothing against the oncoming threat.

"_Nonsense Erzavayn! There is no manner of being foolish enough or powerful enough to battle that many of your soldiers!"_

Even so, there was nothing the Archon could say to assure himself. His feeling was still there, getting stronger by the minute.

He was beginning to hope that the enemy would arrive already, just so he could get rid of this awful feeling.

Just as he thought that, the Archon's wish was fulfilled as every Dark Eldar present felt the next psychic pulse sent by the mysterious sorcerer.

The Dark Eldar expected an attack by a fearsome enemy army with numbers even greater than their own, the enemy soldiers shouting brutal warcries while their vehicles launched powerful explosives and blasts at them.

They were not expecting a young human girl teleporting right behind the Archon.

As Erzavayn stood in front of his current living quarters, his heart stricken with fear and anxiety, the promised assault began.

Just as he was telling himself once again that he would be safe, it happened. An event that made him decide that he would always trust the feelings in his gut for the rest of his life.

It was on this day Archon Erzavayn Le'utyhr met his greatest and fearsome opponent, a being of sheer power who would change his whole perception of existence, leaving him to rot in the prisons of his Eldar brethren.

It was the day he finally learned the true definition of regret.

**Mal POV**

Using the powers of the Warp to lift herself into the air was not a difficult ordeal. It was simply a form of telekinesis, used by psykers all around the Imperium. However, she took this to the next level, able to float for extended amounts of time and flying faster than even the most swift of jetbikes.

Telekinesis was an extremely useful ability.

As Mal sent her telepathic pulse in all directions, she was able to map the entirety of the area around her in addition to the path to the Drukhari encampment, allowing her to fly there in a straight line. It was akin to the echolocation ability of a bat, simply with a much longer range.

However, she stopped quite a few miles from her intended location, suddenly in thought, her cloak fluttering behind her thanks to the cold breeze as she floated midair.

"_Hmm, even if I can kill all of them, I probably shouldn't be too confident. After all, their weapons would hurt a lot if I allowed them to hit me. Besides, I have to make sure that the Archon won't run away. I have to make sure not to kill him accidentally either."_

Smiling with newfound confidence, Mal could feel the metaphoric lightbulb shine in her mind.

"_Oh! I can just capture him before I kill everyone there! That way, he can't escape and I don't have to worry about killing him!"_

Smiling in victory, Mal enacted her new "plan".

**Dark Eldar POV**

Every Dark Eldar present felt the new psychic pulse as it hit them, their weariness increasing tenfold.

Now, their opponent would know exactly where each of them was, able to pinpoint their location to every exact detail.

Deadly weapons were held by tense hands, the muscles strained and tight. They had been alerted by the Archon that the foe would be dangerous. They had never seen that expression on his face before, that pale, terrified expression which made it seem like his head was upon the chopping block.

Whatever could force an Archon to act like that had to be treated with the utmost care.

The Incubi around Erzavayn scanned the area around them, eyes darting to every single location an enemy could strike from, their bodies forming stances which would allow them to strike at any foe within the span of a single moment, their bodies pumped with Drukhari steroids and other combat enhancing drugs.

It was too much, really, for any other situation.

However, this time, it was far from enough. Much too far.

Yes, the world truly hated Erzavayn this day.

Suddenly, in a beam of bright golden light, a girl in a golden Commissar's outfit appeared directly behind the Archon, her face neutral and emotionless.

This happened just as the Archon was about to command his troops to move to new locations to counteract the psychic wave which identified their exact location to the enemy.

Unfortunately for him, he was too late.

Just from the girl's psychic presence alone, the Incubi around her were immediately immobilized, clutching their heads in pain.

Considering the Drukhari did not deal with the Warp anymore, they were not as affected by it as much as their Eldar brethren. Even so, being in such close proximity with someone like Mal was enough to stun even an ancient haemonculus.

While the Dark Eldar further away were simply stunned for a moment, the guards besides the Archon were not able to face such power without slight mental damage. It was literally like having a flashbang grenade explode a millimeter in front of your eyes.

Just as the Drukhari around Mal prepared to fire their weapons towards her, each fending off a growing headache, the girl quickly wrapped her arms around the cold plate armor of the Archon before disappearing again in that same flash of gold, the expression of the being under the armor unreadable.

He was effected Mal's massive presence too, which was why he did not have the time to react to her appearance.

It wasn't nearly as traumatic to Erzavayn since his back was turned to her. However, the stunning effect was present.

The Dark Eldar defenders could only watch, dumbfounded, as their leader was taken from them in the span of two seconds.

Eyes widened to the size of dinner plates while jaws dropped to the ground.

This reaction was natural, even if they were hardened combatants. After all, the ironclad defense of the Drukhari was penetrated in but an instant, by a single person who simply teleported within their midsts as if it was nothing.

How she was able to do this consecutively, no one knew. No psyker should be able to teleport two times in less than a minute, right?

The sheer absurdity of the situation and the intense aura of the enemy put the small army of Drukhari in a state of shock, the entire group staying still for a minute, wordlessly staring forward, their jaws collecting dust on the floor.

Of course, the Incubi were still on the ground, howling in mental agony. Normally, the pain would have caught the interest of many of their brethren, but this time, it was ignored completely.

All of the Dark Eldar thought one thing, and one thing only in this situation.

_"What in the name of Vect just happened?!"_

**Mal POV**

Smiling with satisfaction, Mal observed her handiwork.

In front of her was an angry and fearful Archon clad in black armor, speeding towards her with a wickedly curved sword which radiated a strange but malevolent aura.

As Mal easily dodged the poisonous crystal shards fired from the Drukhari's pistol, she smiled again.

It was going all according to plan.

Swiftly teleporting the Archon several miles away from his base was an easy endeavor. Mal did not encounter any trouble amongst the Dark Eldar, except for maybe their strange device which she thought was supposed to prevent the arrival of any Warp-spawned beings.

Mal had stayed inside of the Warp for a second longer than she needed to just to overload that strange device with psychic energy.

The hordes of Daemons futilely attempting to bite at her being simply annoyed her, as they were harmless nuisances, but nuisances nonetheless.

Mal did not forget that her presence in the Warp would deal a great deal of mental damage to the Drukhari, using it to her advantage.

After all, almost all of the targets affected by this would be put to death soon enough, so there was no need to worry about unnecessary brutality.

Mal had wondered why she was willing to kill other sentient beings so easily. After all, she fully intended to take their lives and doom them to having their soul devoured by Slaanesh. She should have felt something, right?

Well… It would be a lie to say that she didn't. After all, she didn't want to actually doom anyone to that kind of fate if she could help it.

However, she wasn't adamant in this opinion.

Over a decade of loneliness and apathy did not exactly develop strong morals in Mal. On the surface, she might have looked like a normal girl, but if you search deep enough, you would find that she wasn't above using others to her gain, or killing others because of the simple possibility of them causing trouble in the future.

It wasn't as if she was without morals. Mal would not do these unless she was forced to. She did not find pleasure in causing others pain, nor did she see sentient lives as insignificant.

Deep down, the being known as Mal was indeed kind. However, that kindness would not be readily shown to a person if they were not someone she likes or calls family.

Therefore, she would decide to kill the Dark Eldar without hesitation or remorse. After all, they could not be left alive. It was far too troublesome.

The Dark Eldar along with the Necrons were two factions she would not allow herself to underestimate. They were simply so advanced that they could just about do anything.

Eyeing the Archon before her, moving at a pace slower than that of a snail, Mal thought of ways to immobilize him.

"_Hmm… I guess I can just reach into his mind and knock him out. Wait, I can't do that. I don't know how much he can take, so it could drive him insane. Maybe I'll paralyze him with my Warp lightning? Nope, not that either. If it's too strong for him, he'll die."_

Mal's eyebrow began twitching.

Voicing her frustrations, she threw a small fit, pouting like a child.

She was already concealing her psychic presence in the Warp so the Archon would not go insane.

As the figure of Erzavayn approached her, the girl sighed.

"_Well, since I can't immobilize him with my powers, I guess I'll just do it the old fashioned way. Dad did teach me that one move…"_

**Archon Erzavayn POV**

Erzavayn was terrified. So terrified that he could feel his stomach lurching with fright.

Even if he was an Archon with centuries of experience, his self-preservation instincts were still immensely strong.

When he organized this raid, Erzavayn simply wanted to pillage a part of the planet, take the loot, and return to the Dark City. Sure, he got a little bit carried away, but still.

Why would fate torment him with the monster of a woman in front of him?

The Dark Eldar had been abducted from his base in an instant, shocked at that gigantic psychic presence which came from the girl in front of him.

His men had done nothing to help, standing by useless while their leader was effortlessly captured.

"_Those incompetent fools! When I get back, I'll sell every last one of them to the Haemonculi!"_

Erzavayn swallowed.

"_...If I get back…"_

Oh, how the Archon wished he could run at this moment. His body screamed for him to do so, basic survival instincts attempting to help him to survive the encounter with the most fearsome predator in the galaxy.

However, Erzavayn knew it was useless.

The psyker before him would not let him escape unless it was for her own entertainment. After all, she was simply too strong.

As the Archon's left-hand desperately fired off rounds at his target with his splinter pistol, his legs propelled him towards the girl. Of course, they were sidestepped with ease, every round soaring past her body.

Erzavayn knew his only hope was in close combat. Most psykers did not excel in it, their more powerful attacking being ranged. Even if the girl before him had a sword strapped to her belt, her physique did not seem to be suited to use it properly.

The Archon was well aware that his little strategy had a low chance of success. His opponent seemed to be some sort of champion for a Warp god, more powerful than any Chaos sorcerer. He had accepted this fact already. Or rather… there was no choice but to accept it.

Still, Erzavayn's current plan left him with the highest chance for success, so he took it.

However, as his blade drew close to the girl, it was suddenly stopped by one of her hands, holding his wrist in a vice grip.

This sort of strength would put even a tactical class Dreadnought to shame.

The Archon could quite literally feel and hear the material of his prized armor creaking, bending under the pure strength of the being before him.

The girl simply smiled at him questioningly, an eyebrow raised, faint amusement in those dark amethyst eyes. It was as if she was asking him if he actually believed that his assault would show any form of result.

"_J-just what kind of monster is this thing?!"_

However, there was no time for hesitation. Erzavayn quickly positioned his pistol to a place where he could target his opponent's face.

With a burst of uncaged malevolence, a crystal shard was ejected from the small pistol, accelerating towards the girl's face at a speed faster than that of sound's, only a foot away from its target.

The Archon's face split into a grin.

The poison in that crystal was so potent that it would kill even an Astartes if left untreated. He had won.

However, that sense of triumph was soon morphed into a feeling of sheer terror, then a feeling of broken resignment, as what had transpired removed any trace of hope from the Archon's mind.

With an action as easily performed as catching a balloon thrown from two feet away, the girl's free hand zipped up towards her face in a blur of motion, holding the poisoned crystal shard between her middle and index fingers, her face slightly more amused.

In a voice so silken and smooth that it would put even the most successful Succubi to shame, the girl spoke in Low Gothic.

"Poison, huh? It seems really effective too, although the smell can be improved on."

Suddenly, a small hand-sized golden portal opened beside the girl as she examined the projectile.

Inserting her hand in the small gap between Realspace and the Warp, Mal smiled.

"I'll make sure to examine it later."

Gulping in fear as a river of sweat dripped down his back, Erzavayn could only await the judgment of the girl, no, the demigod before him. He knew that resistance would be futile after what just transpired.

Retracting her hand from the small portal which closed soon after the action, Mal stared into the Archons eyes.

They were supposedly hidden by his helmet, but he wouldn't be surprised if the girl could see through the dark plates as if they were transparent.

Those eyes seemed to peer into his very soul, like two orbs of crystallized knowledge, they appeared to see through him as if his body did not exist.

Frozen in absolute fear, the Archon barely noticed when the girl's free hand reached to the top of his ebony helmet and tore it off with a likeliness of a child ripping a scrap of parchment.

Cool, fresh air surrounded his face as the recycled oxygen in his helmet flew into the wind.

This only increased the Archon's fear, as he felt more vulnerable than ever without the protection of his armor piece.

However, these feelings were quickly replaced with intense pain in the next few seconds, as an event unexpected to both him and the girl transpired.

She stepped forwards, body curling behind the Archon, as if to reach for his neck. However, in a burst of instinctive motion, the girl's hand which held the Archon's sword arm was pulled to the right sharply, still holding the arm of the poor Drukhari.

The result was catastrophic, as the instantaneous burst of kinetic energy stretched Erzavayn's arm to its maximum possible length and then some more.

The Archon's entire sword arm, almost all the way to the shoulder, was instantly ripped from its socket, armor and all, leaving only a small bleeding stump.

The pain was not that much, but it was still there.

As Erzavayn gritted his teeth, he could hear the sound of his opponent cursing, as if not expecting the result of her actions.

A moment afterward, he felt a rectangular patch of force apply itself on the back of his neck.

Then, all the Archon knew was darkness.

**Mal POV**

All that was in Mal's head was this,

_"Crap."_

Her face locked in a not so happy smile, she gazed at the now bloodied stump on the Drukhari's body, holding his severed limb in her hand.

_"Crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap."_

All Mal wanted to do was to simply step forward so she could knock out the Archon with a chop to the back of his neck, a technique taught to her by the Emperor. He said that it would come in handy.

So what in Sanguinius's sanguine breeches just happened!

Apparently, Mal had forgotten to let go of the Archon's arm when she took her step, somehow tearing it off in the process.

As she took that step, Mal quickly noticed that something was wrong.

One was the sound of flesh ripping and armor tearing, followed by a suspiciously metallic scent, another was the sound of liquid dripping to the dirt ground, and the third was the pained hissing of the Archon. She could feel the pain coming off him in waves.

Mal had furrowed her brows.

_"What just happened?"_

This was what she thought before turning her head back to look at the proceedings of her newest action, the result leaving her wide-eyed.

"HOLY MOTHER OF FRAKK!"

Mal's hand almost instinctively knocked out the Archon, his unconscious body now falling to the ground.

This lead to the current situation, Mal standing, shocked, the bleeding body of the Archon rapidly losing blood.

It was Mal's first time seeing something this gruesome before, but since it was her own fault, it couldn't be helped. Besides, she would be seeing much more of it soon.

Mal was able to adapt to this situation fairly well, while any other girl would have been disgusted or left in shock by the sight.

Well, to be fair, she was now over twenty years old according to the time she spent in the Warp.

However, this new acceptance was also thanks to her new body and brain, greatly superior over a normal humans', and of course, her apathy from her previous life.

Even so, Mal was still able to be clumsy, as shown by the current scenario.

The girl instantly knew that there was no time to lose.

As Eldar biology was suspiciously close to humans', Mal knew how to treat the wound easily.

Her reaction to the predicament she put herself in was over the top, considering her medical prowess.

In fact, a would such as this did not even require her to go into depth to do something like micromanage every single cell in the Drukhari's arm so that it would reattach.

Since Mal was the apostle of what could be named as a Warp god, she now possessed a direct relationship of the Immaterium.

While regular psykers were forced to bend the eldritch energies of the Warp to their will, Mal did not have to do so. Her relationship with such energies was something akin to her relationship with her own limbs.

She could control the psychic power without vying for control of them. After all, she was something akin to a Warp being inside of a human body. Her soul was fundamentally different from any realspace creature's.

Therefore, as Mal calmed herself, she quickly bent down and picked up the Archon's detached arm from the ground, walking towards his unconscious body and placing the limb in front of the bleeding stump attached to his shoulder.

Closing her eyes, Mal simply willed the Warp to sow the cells in the flesh, skin, and bones in the arm together.

It was done shortly, the wound covered in a warm golden glow, flesh and bone melding together until there wasn't even a scar left.

Taking a deep breath, Mal smiled at her handiwork. It wasn't particularly exhausting, but the stress from her overreaction was still present.

The girl began to examine the Archon's arm, seeking any imperfections she might have missed.

The exposed flesh that was shown in the gash of the torn armor was young and healthy, newly grown and good as new.

Seeing this, Mal nodded approvingly.

However, a fact which she realized next quickly made the girl begin to sweat rapidly and chuckle in embarrassment and shame.

She had healed the arm wrong.

The Eldar limb was bent backward in a usually unnatural motion, the bone having been "fixed" the opposite direction it should have.

Mal had healed the Archon's arm backward.

Rubbing her head feverishly, Mal continued to giggle nervously. Thankfully, there was no one nearly, or else she would be dying of embarrassment.

She quickly got over these feelings, tossing the Archon who was a whole head taller than her over the shoulder like a bag of wheat.

Immediately entering the Warp with her new prisoner, Mal could feel the Daemons claw at her with much more fervor and mindless hunger than before. Perhaps it was because Eldar were desired by Slannesh.

Well, this did not matter, as they could not break through Mal's psychic barrier no matter what they did. It wasn't like there was a greater Daemon around.

Quickly teleporting a whole mile over the Aledari encampment, Mal delivered the package she promised to Linaria.

As she began to fall, the girl quickly restricted her psychic presence so it would not be too hazardous to the Eldar.

Three meters before she and her package hit the ground, Mal called upon her telekinesis to lock her location.

The resulting shockwave was heard and felt by every living creature in the surrounding radius.

Dropping her floatation spell, Mal descended upon the dirt with a small thud-like sound.

Observing her surroundings, it would appear that the girl had teleported to the right coordinates, as the distinctive black and white colors of Ulthwe welcomed her in all of its mournful glory.

Standing at the exact same place she had first arrived in at her meeting with the Farseer, Mal waited. She was sure that the Eldar would greet her soon, as her potent presence would be noticed by the experienced psyker even if it was restricted.

True to her expectations, the steps of a light and nimble figure could be heard as Lanaria stepped out from her resident building.

Stopping a few feet in front of the gently smiling Mal, she nodded in satisfaction.

"Splendid. I would expect no less from the Emperor's champion. You have kept your word."

Mal nodded cheerfully.

"Here, you can do whatever you want with him now."

The girl said this while tossing the Archon's unconscious body forward like luggage, resulting in a pained groan from her unfortunate victim.

Mal rubbed her head.

"Sorry he's so roughed up. I didn't really see the need to fix his armor."

Examining her new prisoner, Lanaria narrowed her eyes.

"Yes, that is fine. Carrying out such an action would be simply a waste of time and energy."

The Farseer bent down and tugged on the Archon's now deformed arm, raising an eyebrow as she pointed to the limb.

"However, what happened with _that_?"

Mal chuckled nervously.

"It was an unfortunate accident. Let's just leave it at that."

Lanaria sighed, realizing that she would not get any information from the girl.

"Alright. I shall now take the Archon and leave. Good fortune to you, Mal. May Khaine guide your blade."

Mal shook her head, amused at the blessing.

"I will, Lanaria. However, do you truly believe that Khaine would ever bless someone like me?"

Before the Eldar could say any more, Mal was gone, only leaving traces of golden energy at her wake.

The Farseer shook her head and smiled.

_"Troublesome girl."_

Later that day, all the Craftworld Aledari returned to Ulthwe, their mission complete. Lanaria would later report to the Exarchs of her findings, attempting to convince them to develop a somewhat positive opinion of the human called Mal. After all, she seemed to be a potential ally with a great deal of power, akin to the navigator house of Belisarius which owed them several debts.

It would be greatly beneficial if someone as powerful and possibly influential as Mal could ally herself with them.

This day, Mal had completed her first non-hostile encounter of the Aledari, placing herself within the good graces of one of their Farseers.

While young, Lanaria was undeniably influential in some way. Therefore, the first stone of the road to an alliance of Mal and Craftworld Ulthwe was placed today.

The girl herself thought the interactions with the Farseers to be mere pebbles upon the path to peace, but it was much more.

After this day, the entity known as Mal became a popular rumor among the Ulthwe craftworlders, famed for being a human with unparalleled kindness and awe-inspiring power.

Many found themselves attracted to this rumor, as it showed them that there was hope even in the barbaric Empire known as the Imperium of Man.

However, many more were wary of her power, thinking of the Emperor's champion as a large thorn in their side. They knew if this entity was to turn hostile towards their species, the loss of life would be catastrophic.

Yes, this day, Mal had erected a differing reputation within Ulthwe society, integrating her existence into a small piece of their culture.

Many Eldar schemed to somehow turn her to their side, many more researching methods to end her existence.

Even so, the girl had gained several, albeit reluctant supporters in the Aledari society.

It was truly an achievement worthy of the Emperor's champion, even though it went completely unnoticed by Mal herself, the girl blatantly oblivious to the amount of influence she had upon the non-human species'.

**Dark Eldar POV**

It was chaos. Absolute and utter chaos.

As soon as the Archon was taken away by that girl, no, that Warp-spawned _thing_, the Drukhari forces organized themselves the best they could.

The Dark Eldar had placed a specified reality stabilizer in their base to ward off all forms of Warp teleportation and Daemon summoning. However, once they checked the device after they were attacked, they found it destroyed, completely overloaded with the Emergy of the Immaterium, golden lightning streaking across its ebony surface.

How the gold-clad being did something like this was left to speculation. There was one certain thing, however.

The Drukhari were no longer safe within their own base. Not when that girl could simply teleport within their midst and drive the ones closest to her insane with nothing but that accursed golden aura alone.

The Incubi bodyguards of Erzavayn had yet to recover from their exposure to her

If they were lesser Eldar, then they would have been driven mad instantly. However, they were Incubi, trained warriors who sought to perfect their craft. Unstoppable and terrifying manifestations of artful warfare unflinching in the fear of death.

Therefore, they would recover if given time.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Archon's forces immediately abandoned all hopes of a rescue operation, as such things were not a very Dark Eldar thing to do in the first place.

Moreover, it was assumed that the golden being who assaulted their base was now located in a secure outpost guarded by a large number of soldiers and turrets.

After all, no sane being would venture into the hellish warzone known as Avarian V by themselves, right?

Therefore, the Drukhari were now relocating to a new part of the continent, fearful of the prowess of their aggressor. They would salvage what they could from their base and move to a safe location.

Vehicles carried Webway gates as troops marched, painfully aware of the surroundings in the meantime.

The entire Dark Eldar force was on high alert, as they were in a vulnerable position. Yes, they could probably get into position if attacked, but they would not have any cover. Moreover, they were open to attack from all sides, which meant that they had to be extra wary.

Eventually, the Kabalite force finally reached their desired location, several of the pirates sighing in relief.

The Webway gates were quickly detached from the vehicles and activated, malevolent purple energies concentrated at a single spot to create large portals, twisted, jagged black spires cackling with malice.

Then, the Dark Eldar began to send themselves through the gate along with their slaves, quickly moving through the many portals with controlled rush and urgency.

Of course, they evacuated their own people before the slaves, as it was far more urgent for the Drukhari to escape their current situation than to mail a shipment of slaves to Commoragh.

However, just as the first Dark Eldar was about to step through the portal, the assault began.

Suddenly, a wave of golden energy could be felt by every Drukhari present. Even its nature ensured that it secreted a warm glow and radiance, the power was chilling to the Dark Eldar, as they knew well what it was.

The enemy had just confirmed their location, which meant that they would be teleporting in but a few moments.

The Drukhari began to enter the portal with greater speed and urgency, the others tense and on edge.

There was no real way to counteract the teleportation ability of that Warp-spawned entity, which meant that the Dark Eldar were easy for the picking.

Even so, they began to space themselves out, as they knew that close proximity to their aggressor was unbearable. However, if they were sufficiently far away enough, then they would perhaps be able to shoot her from a distance.

However, the Kabalite forces did not have the opportunity to do this, as the assault began a mere five seconds after the psychic wave hit them.

Just as the Drukhari began to spread out, the same dreaded golden flash appeared one again, revealing the gold-clad form of a smirking girl, leaning against one of the Webway portals lazily, tossing her prized las-pistol into the air and catching it as if examining the weapon.

As a menacing grin spread across the girl's face, every Dark Eldar could feel their skins crawl and their bodies shudder involuntarily.

After all, the sheer amount of killing intent radiating from their enemy was simply too great.

However, mere seconds later, the pirates recovered, aiming their weapons towards their target.

The Drukhari were all wincing inwardly at the girl's presence. However, most of them were sufficiently far away her to not be incapicated by her aura.

Many of them smiled, as they knew that their enemy had made a foolish mistake in coming alone.

With the combined firepower of the whole Dark Eldar raiding party, no one could hope to survive.

Yet, as the blood-chilling words left the gold-clad entity's mouth, the hairs on every Dark Eldar who heard them stood on end, their bodies tensing to the point of shaking visibly.

As their enemy's smile spread even wider than its already impossible length, her eyes became masked by her Commissar cap, obscured by the edge of the piece of clothing.

Catching her las-pistol in the air one final time, the human twirled her firearm in a way akin to the gunslingers of old before holding it steady in her left hand.

Every Drukhari present knew that the being before them was a mere human, a brainless monkey who would never hope to match the glory of the Eldar race.

Even so, they could not deny the fear buried deep within the very marrow of their bones. The same fear of death which had aided many of them in their times of need, ensuring their survival.

After all, one could not live within a sixth sense for danger within the streets of Commergah. They would be easily assassinated without it.

That same sixth sense was now flared to the maximum for every single Eldar present, even the ones piloting their vehicles.

The tension was at its breaking point for the Drukhari of Erzavayn's raiding party.

It was a shameful thing, to be afraid of a mere human. However, in this situation, there was simply no helping it.

As the Dark Eldar prepared to shoot their enemy, the girl's killing intent burst. It was as if a barely stable dam had just been destroyed, terrifying waves of pure malice radiating from the golden being.

With her right hand now placed upon the handle of her chain-power sword, the entity of Mal's violet eyes seemed stared into the very souls of her targets, a crimson flash passing through the irises for but an instant.

With a chilling voice able to freeze even the most stoic of flames, the Emperor's champion declared the Drukhari raiders' death sentence.

"Now then,"

The ominous buzzing of a master-crafted chainsword could be heard across the sandy area which the Dark Eldar stood upon, monomolecular teeth shredding through the air with an insatiable thirst for blood.

As the golden saber was pulled from its sheath, the temperature seemed to drop by several degrees, the golden killing intent radiating from Mal becoming thick as fog.

As the girl readjusted her Commissar cap, showing her now emotionless, yet unsettling face to her Drukhari enemies, the Dark Eldars' basic survival instincts screamed to them to run, to somehow escape this all-consuming predator before them.

However, it was useless. Completely and utterly useless.

For the bodies of the Dark City's residents had already accepted their own inevitable deaths.

The blood-freezing chuckle of a young girl echoed across the battlefield.

Twin violet orbs, now tinged with a small amount of red, adjusted their sights upon the whole of the Drukhari force akin to the way a predator focused its attention on its prey.

The words which would signal the massacre's beginning were announced.

_**"Let us begin."**_

**Meanwhile: In an unidentified part of the galaxy**

The star god who was known as the Nightbringer feasted hungrily on a nearby sun, savoring the rush of energy which filled his being. It wasn't nearly as delicious as other C'tan, but it would do,

Just as he thought this, however, a sneeze erupted from Aza'Garod's nonexistent nostrils.

Growling in spite, the god of death muttered to himself.

_**"I do not know how, but I can feel it. Some arrogant creature is stealing my glory at this exact moment."**_

He immediately shrugged off this notion. There were more important things to tend to after all.

Eyeing another sun in a nearby solar system, Aza'Garod could feel himself salivating.

Floating towards the nearby star, the Nightbringer would begin yet another plentiful feast.

**Random Drukhari POV**

Iruthata Murikei could only watch in fear and trepidation as his fellow Drukhari were slaughtered before his very eyes.

He was just a nameless warrior in Archon Erzavayn's Kabal, but he was a Dark Eldar down to the bone.

The soldier had tortured his fair share of slaves and fought in his fair share of battles. He was not a rookie in any sense of the word.

Even so, Iruthata was filled with fear towards the absolute monster before him.

The being which had teleported within the midst of the Dark Eldar was nowhere near a mere human. No, the entity was something much, much more, able to crush the great warriors of the Drukari race as if they were naught but ants under her boots.

What else could you call this? What else could you call this unstoppable force of nature tearing through Ituthata's brethren?

When the pirates first fired upon the strange invader, she had immediately leaped from the ground, creating a large crater in her previous location.

As soon as the Emperor's champion reached the first Dark Eldar in sight, that pirate's life was as good as over.

Ithuthata could only contineue to shoot his splinter rifle as Mal quite literatly tore through the Drukhari forces, her sword bisecting several Kabalite warriors each swing.

The projectiles launched against the girl were unable to hit their marks, being easily evaded at every possible turn.

Even when the rounds came at her from several directions, Mal was effortlessly able to avoid them all, tilting her body in just the right way to evade every crystal shard, deflecting them with her sword, or simply batting them aside with her arm, her golden sleeve void of any damage.

In truth, even the projectiles the girl was forced to actively notice were a small percentage of the amount fired.

However, she was simply moving too fast to be aimed at properly.

Mal had become an unstoppable force, her sprint taking her to pirate after pirate, the girl easily dispatching them with cuts from her saber or golden las-beams from her pistol.

Some of the Dark Eldar were shooting at her from atop their Raiders, while the riders of the Ravagers turned the veicoles' guns upon the girl.

Ithuthata's pale lips twisted into a sadistic grin as several of the gunships turned their weapons on the girl.

In but an instant, several barrages of Darklight energy beams converged on Mal's location, the Drukhari determined to rid themselves of this new powerful enemy no matter the cost.

In an instant, however, the smile was wiped off Ithuthata's face, replaced with an expression of shock and despair.

The darkish purple beams which would tear any normal enemy apart were evaded with obvious ease, their target leaping more than twenty meters in the air with grace that could rival a Harlequin's.

Mal somersaulted aboard a Ravager, landing perfectly on the sail without a hint of imbalance.

The girl proceeded to slaughter the gunner and pilot with blood-chilling ease, leaping towards a Raider once the once black vehicle was dyed crimson in the blood of the pirates.

This contineued until Mal was finished with half the Drukhari raiding vehicles, the foot soldiers shooting at her all the while.

Somehow, the golden aura wasn't affecting any of them anymore, almost as if that massive Warp prescese was naught but an illusion.

There was no time to question this strange occurrence, however, as the Dark Eldar were far too busy dying to do so.

Yes, this fact gave the Succubi and Incubi forces the opertunity to face their enemy in close quarters combat. However, this only served to hasten the melee forces' own deaths.

Mal's power sword seemed to move at a speed faster than any Eldar could precieve, instantly bisecting her opponents before they even notice her own assault, soon followed by their own demise.

Ithuthata gazed unbelievably at the incarnation of carnage currently above one of the Raider vehicles.

_"H-how is this possible? How can such an existence be conceivable? A human no less? Is fate so determined to kill me?"_

The Dark Eldar quickly found that there was no more room for mental questions, as he ran towards his only hope of escape.

His species were fearful cowards at times, and they were proud of it.

Sprinting at the Webway gates which led back to the Dark City, Ithuthata's legs propelled him forward at the best of his ability, pleading to whatever gods that were out there to let him make it in time.

The Drukhari was nothing but fearful of the fate of having his soul devoured by Slaanesh.

Continuing to sprint, the warrior grew more exited, his heartbeat's rhythym becoming faster and faster.

He was four feet from the portal now, so agonizingly close to sweet salvation.

_"Yes! Yes! Yes! She didn't notice me! I can make it! I can-"_

Ithuthata's vision was suddenly changed, his eyes seeing places lower and lower.

A smiling face morphed into a shocked and unbelieving one as he realized his situation.

The now headless body which he used to possess carried out the last order from his detached brain, taking one more step forward before falling pitifully.

The last thing the Drukhari heard was the silken and beautiful voice of a young girl speaking in Low Gothic.

"How troublesome. You pests just keep intending to make my job harder, don't you?"

Then, Ithuthata knew only darkness.

**Mal POV**

As Mal delivered that intimidating and fear-inducing sentence, she was quickly met with a hail of crystalline projectiles, infused with powerful poisons.

_"Alright, with that done, they should fear me a little now. Hopefully, they're actually scared and I didn't just waste my time."_

Examining her newly activated power sword, the girl clicked her tongue in annoyance.

_"What the frakk is this faulty design?! A chainsword and a power sword are two weapons not meant to be combined! Teeth on a sword which can already saw through everything is less than useless, and that relentless buzzing is way too annoying! Honestly, Dad, what were you thinking when you made this thing?!"_

Examining her las-pistol, Mal sighed.

_"At least this one looks promising. I assume it fires psychic las-beams or something. Now, the question is, how many shots are in the battery? Moreover, can I just recharge it with Warp energy, or do I have to put it in a campfire or leave it in the sun?"_

The girl shook her head.

_"Well, I'll figure that out later."_

She smiled.

_"I have to field test it first."_

The projectiles fired from the guns of the Drukhari were painfully slow, to the point where Mal could literally beat them to the side with her arm. All she needed to do was not touch the edged points of the crystals.

_"Oh, wait. I have to lower my soul intensity so they can actually put up a fight. There isn't too many of them and they don't have the required weaponry to fight me, therefore, I can hold back on them a little."_

Proceeding to sprint within the midsts of Kabalite Warriors, Mal quickly bisected them in a single stroke.

She doubted that they could even see her strikes.

_"Funny. I don't feel much when I kill these guys. Maybe I really am a twisted person? Hmm… well, that doesn't seem right. After all, these people torture others all the time and don't have any loved ones or friends. If I want to figure out whether my morals are gone, these guys aren't the best test subjects."_

Her las-pistol also seemed to be very powerful, able to fire searing beams of light which were able to penetrate through multiple Dark Eldar at a time. The fire rate was pretty good too.

As the Incubi and the Succubi approached Mal, she smiled in satisfaction.

_"Finally! Some melee fighters! I want to see what they can do."_

Well… to say that Mal was disappointed would be a grave understatement.

After all, seeing the slow-motion movements of fully-armored edgelords who took themselves too seriously along with weird exhibitionists who were showing too much skin were't very interesting.

The girl simply swiped her saber at them in a lazy and slow motion, attempting to test the durability of Incubi armor as well as getting rid of the half-naked pests.

However, as mal's blade met with the activated power field of a Succubus's glaive, she became much more active, as the disruptor fields seemed to repel each other, throwing her saber backward.

Narrowing her eyes, Mal grinned.

_"Interesting. So power weapons repel each other on contact. I'll need to do some research on that, but for the time being..."_

The girl now swung her saber lazily once more, avoiding the enemy's weapons this time.

The ebony armor of the Drukhari was cut through as if it were paper, the wearers of the armaments split into halves.

After a few more strokes from Mal's power sword, the close-ranged warriors in front of her were very much dead.

It was then that the strange ship contraptions began to fire at her with ominous beams of black energy.

As they all shot at her at the same time, Mal leaped into the air.

_"Immortal or not, I'm not taking my chances with that. Knowing the Dark Eldar, it probably hurts like hell."_

Therefore, the girl began to slaughter the crews atop the small ships with relative ease, at least until she saw the single warrior running to the Webway portals in front of him.

_"Ugh! Why didn't I destroy those blasted things sooner?!"_

Groaning in self-chastisement, Mal instantly leaped to the warrior's location, chopping off his head with a tired swing.

Venting her frustrations, she said,

"How troublesome. You pests just keep intending to make my job harder, don't you?"

These words went unheard by the majority of her enemies, which was just fine with her.

In the next few moments, Mal shot the structures of every single Webway portal, the las-beams from her pistol melting through the strange ebony material of the structures. Needless to say, the portals were destroyed.

"There. Now I don't have to worry anymore."

Smiling to the rest of the Dark Eldar forces, who were starting to resemble cornered mice with no methods of escaped, Mal grinned.

They would be taken care of shortly.

**5 minutes later**

Mal looked at the sight of carnage before her, observing the ruined landscape of the sandy beach littered with the mutilated and charred corpses of Drukhari, staining the sand red with their blood.

Wiping a bead of imaginary sweat off her brow, the girl sighed.

"All in a day's good work."

However, what she saw next made her groan in slight exhaustion.

"Or not."

A great number of confused, dead, traumatized, and awed slaves stood before her.

Mal realized that she had developed something akin to a tunnel vision for the Dark Eldar, and did not even notice their human prisoners.

And of course, those same prisoners would now be wanting answers, or maybe even treatment for their trauma.

Mal slapped her head with the force of a launched bolter round.

She muttered with a tired expression,

"All in a day's work, huh?"

**As many of you can see, this takes a lot of inspiration from Dawn of War, and the Dark Eldar do not really behave in the way they should have**

**But then again, in Dawn of War, hardly anyone behaves in the way they should…**

**Anyways, there were a lot of gaps in the lore I had to fill, so some things might seem strange**

**Tactics are completely nonexistent in this**


	9. Chaos Encounter

**Alright, I'll be getting rid of my old POV system. After reading my previous chapters, I decided that it clearly was not going to work. Therefore I'll now be using **

**this:_**

**Sorry to people who say that the characters' personalities don't match up with the lore. I do admit that I am not well versed in 40k lore to write everything with accuracy. **

**However, I have been trying to create characters such as Lanaria, who are a bit less arrogant than the rest of the Eldar, simply to not create a stereotype. **

**However, this isn't really a good excuse. I will try to read up more on 40k to write more accurately.**

**About the Dark Eldar, yes, I know that they would never set up the kind of base I wrote of, I was just trying to make it fit into the Dawn of War-like setting.**

**Even so… my take on the Archon's character was too unorthodox. **

**For the Custodians, I couldn't really find a lot of material about them other from their codex. The "brother" bond I wrote of can be expected to be completely invalidated in later chapters. **

**As for the fight between Valerian and the Warboss, I wasn't really sure about the capabilities of Warbosses, so I might have made him too powerful. **

**Anyways, it would be greatly appreciated if anyone out there could recommend me some 40k books that would fill me in on these kinds of things. I'll try to read them.**

**Oh, and for the Avarian V ark of my story, I'm afraid that I'll have to stick with the game information. The situation is just too impossible when it isn't in a game-ish setting.**

Mal looked at the gathered bunch of disheveled and borderline insane Drukhari slaves, dressed in nothing but filthy rags worn for unbelievable amounts of times.

She frowned.

It was truly an eye-opening sight.

Some of the former slaves, possibly the weak-willed ones, began to release tears from their eyes before clawing desperately at their throats with mutilated and broken fingernails, wanting nothing more to end their scarred existences.

Mal sighed. She honestly had no idea what to do with them.

It was clear that the morals and logic from her former world would not work in the grimdark reality of the 40k universe.

In fact, she was currently building her own set of morals for herself. However, due to lack of experience, that code was not finished yet, leaving her conflicted on what to do with the slaves.

A part of her wanted to simply leave the slaves in peace while they took their own lives, as their trauma and scarring were probably above the human level of comprehension.

However, Mal decided not to adopt this course of action, as she did not possess nearly enough information about Dark Eldar torture techniques to confirm how horrifying they were. For all she knew, they could still be saved from their insanity and repurposed to serve the Imperium.

The Emperor's champion would not let these slaves die just yet, at least not until they were perfectly certain of killing themselves even after a great deal of time after the pain they experienced.

…

Or maybe that in itself was a bad thing?

Call it a fading sentiment from Mal's old world.

With a flick of her wrist, a soft golden light permeated from Mal's being, offering warm feelings of soothing comfort to the torn and traumatized humans before her.

The ones attempting to claw at their throats suddenly had their hands stopped by an invisible force, their limbs restricted from nearing the essential parts of their bodies.

Many of the former captives gasped in shock and awe as they felt the benevolent power radiating from Mal greet their bodies. For these people who have only known the hell known as Drukhari captivity, it was a feeling which brought tears of joy to their tired eyes.

Eventually, the slaves who attempted to take their own lives calmed down, partially due to Mal's golden aura, partially because they realized that their actions were futile.

Mal looked to the more stable of the former slaves and studied them.

These men and women were dressed in dirty and unwashed rags just like their weaker brethren. However, they carried themselves with much more confidence and dignity than the others. With intelligent eyes shining with awe and reverence, these humans gazed upon Mal with their hands brought together and their knees bent as if in prayer.

The number of sane slaves could be counted on one hand while their mad counterparts ranged in the twenties.

Mal approached the sane human closest to her, purple eyes studying every aspect of the man.

His torn and ripped clothing indicated that he was a previous commissar, formerly bright streaks of red now reduced to a dirt-like brownish hue, unable to hide the numerous battle scars which decorated his muscular build. His face was tough and rigid, a long, gash-like scar adjourning his right cheek. Hardened azure eyes met with intrigued amethyst as Mal walked closer.

This man seemed to be something of a battle-hardened veteran. It explained how he was able to survive the brutal torture of his captors.

"_In that case…"_

Mal turned her gaze to the kneeling humans behind the former commissar.

Indeed, the green rags upon their bodies paired with the horrifying battle-induced scars seemed to suggest that the four individuals were part of the Astra Militarum.

"_Hmm… Could they be part of the Guardsmen stationed on this planet before everything went to hell?"_

The girl decided to simply ask the ragged commissar instead of hypothesizing in her mind.

Standing a few feet in front of the kneeling man, who seemed to be uttering words of praise to the Emperor, Mal greeted him.

"So, judging by your torn uniform, I can see that you are a former commissar. The men and women behind around you are all Guardsmen, right?"

The man was completely stunned, his mouth locked in uttering a single word. A million thoughts ran through his mind.

After all, the being before him, clad in a cape and commissar uniform fashioned from diving materials, possessing infinite beauty and charm, was currently speaking to his unworthy self.

The commissar assumed Mal to be a holy agent of the Emperor. After all, there was no way her aura could be anything other than divine. Besides, the earlier performance enacted by the girl-ish figure seemed straight out of a religious story told by the citizens all across the Imperium.

The battle was deserving of a grandiose painting created in its likeness.

A girl-like figure clad in the armaments of a warrior, nigh infinite battle-prowess only matched by infinite beauty. The man was sure that the being before him stood upon a position as holy as an imperial saint. He wasn't sure exactly what she was, only that he was blessed with her presence.

Therefore, the commissar was not sure what to say to his savior. After all, he could not afford to show any sign of weakness to his holy savior. No, he would not be like those spineless cowards around him, possessing the gall to end their own lives, given to them by an angel of the Emperor himself.

Simply entertaining the thought of such an action made the commissar grit his teeth in fury.

Since the holy angel bothered to save their miserable lives from their captors, she probably rescued them only out of the kindness of her heart, as there was nothing those bumbling buffoon could do for the Imperium. Attempting to take the lives their savior had so graciously saved was a sign of the utmost ungratefulness, akin to biting the hand which fed them, not to mention heresy.

When the commissar was reunited with the other guardsmen stationed on the planet, he would make sure that every single one of those inbred mongrels would be converted into mindless servitors.

However, now was not the time to focus on such things.

No, it did not matter even if he was nervous. As a faithful believer of the Imperial Creed, it was the commissar's duty to answer the angel's question with the utmost honesty and virtue.

Therefore, the guardsman replied to Mal's questions with words straight from his heart.

"Yes, honored angel. My men and I were stationed on this planet only for it to be overrun with chaotic corruption and heretics. As we pushed back the foul agents of chaos, a group of Dark Eldar suddenly mounted an attack from their vile portals. Our numbers were small from the battle with the heretics, allowing the damned xenos to quickly overtake us. I was captured along with a few of my men while the rest of my regiment were slaughtered."

Mal sighed.

"As I thought. My condolences to your men, commissar."

The man shook his head, somehow gazing at Mal with more reverence than ever. After all, that brief moment of grief for a random regiment of Imperial Guardsmen had clearly shown the girl's benevolence.

Paired with near inhuman beauty and a god-like presence, this kindness truly resonated within the hearts of the faithful. After all, all humans would prefer to serve a deity kind to them.

Even so, the commissar remained humble. His words were not intended to be flattering, nor were they deceitful or dishonest in any way. They came straight from the man's heart, not honeyed in the least.

The entity known as Mal deserved no less.

"They fought for the betterment of humanity and died honorable deaths on the battlefield. My men would be overjoyed to hear someone of your stature addressing them with such compassion."

A quiet mutter from Mal went unheard by every human present.

"I'll bet."

Having everyone treat her with such reverence could be a pain sometimes. A normal conversation was now impossible, except maybe with Valerian.

"_Jeez, I can't wait to meet with my loyalist brothers. Hopefully, I can actually talk to them properly. Honestly, I don't even want to know what this guy thinks I am."_

The only aura visible to these former slaves was the passive radiance from her clothing. Even so, you would think they were seeing a Living Saint in the flesh.

Mal then addressed the commissar again, shaking off her annoyance, putting forth a genuine smile of compassion.

"I don't want to just keep calling you 'Commissar' forever, so please tell me your name."

The commissar's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as he began to shake with happiness and shock.

When faced with an expression like that from a holy being such as Mal, no mortal man could be able to resist the feeling deep in their hearts. It was like asking someone to stare into the sun itself without blinking.

"_What is this throbbing in my chest. Just what is this painful, yet pleasurable sensation spreading throughout my body? J-just what is this feeling?"_

The commissar's heart rate suddenly increased, the organ pumping forth blood with heightened speed and fervor unmatched by any other man. Unknown to him, tears were falling freely from his face, staining the brown dirt under him with the salty liquid, his body shaking crazily due to the tension in his muscles.

When her almost perfect beauty was enhanced by the god-like aura permeating naturally from her being, the girl would become unapproachable. She would be a prize that any reasonable creature would attempt to claim, put down by their own subconsciousness due to the impossibility of their desire. After all, there was no chance that any sentient mortal would be able to lay claim to the concept of absolute perfection.

However, the Emperor's daughter was currently suppressing a large portion of her aura, simply appearing as an extremely beautiful girl if unaided by her clothing. In that state, she would no longer be unapproachable, appearing instead as an extremely beautiful girl. However, with the golden shine from the commissar uniform she wore, the divine effect was still present.

Mal's eyes widened in worry and surprise as she suddenly noticed the state of the commissar in front of her as well as the imprisoned guardsmen near him.

Her enhanced hearing picked up the sounds of five hearts beating intensely at an insane speed, accompanied by crazed shaking and rivers of tears from their eyes.

"_W-what is this?! What did I say wrong?!"_

Kneeling in front of the commissar, Mal examined his body with a worried expression on her face, tilting his head upwards so that it faced hers.

"W-what's wrong? Was it something I said?"

As the sight of that worried expression greeted the commissar's eyes, a jet of blood flew from his nose, staining the ground red.

The throbbing in the man's heart worsened as he gritted his teeth to maintain control of his body.

To Mal, whose worry increased due to the influx of blood from the commissar's nasal cavity, he finally gave his name.

"M-my n-name is Alexandros Spartacus, commissar of the Avarian V fifth Imperial Guard regiment."

Mal stuttered as the guardsman rose, now back in control of his body, which was screaming for him to protect the angel before him with everything he was capable of.

"_What just happened? I was just talking and these guys started crying out of nowhere. Alexandros even had a massive nosebleed."_

Covering her horrified expression with both hands, Mal exclaimed, inwardly,

"_Oh no! What if I accidentally triggered some psychological trauma among them? I have to be more careful in the future!"_

"W-well, it seems that you are alright. Now that I have confirmed that you are a part of the Guardsmen, I can reunite you with your colleagues. Please wait just a moment."

Of course, the girl was not simply looking for a way of escaping her influx of guilt. Now she knew that some of the slaves had connections with the guardsmen, Mal could send soldiers to escort them with a minimal amount of issues, as some of the former slaves were familiar with the guardsmen.

While Alexandros was about to ask what his savior meant, Mal disappeared in a flash of blinding energy, forcing the humans present to shut their eyes, confused on the issue of their savior's departure.

After a few minutes, Mal came back to the slaves' location with a handful of Imperial Guardsmen, armed with their signature las-guns.

They handled their first teleportation surprisingly well, not even vomiting as their bodies were dragged through the Warp.

Mal was pleased with this outcome, even complimenting the soldiers on it. Of course, this resulted in them kneeling down and literally praying to her with tears dripping from their eyes.

After seeing that, only one thought ran through the girl's mind.

"_What. The. Actual. Frakk.?"_

Mal ordered these guardsmen to escort the former slaves back to their headquarters on the planet. She would have no part in what happened to them next.

Unfortunately, a few of the less mentally stable ones had killed themselves in Mal's absence. She had only sighed when she noticed this. It was only to be expected after all. It seemed that Drukhari torture techniques were so potent that not even exposure to her aura could counteract their effects. Well, to be fair, it was extremely diluted and subdued.

Mal was not especially adept with the more mental aspects of her powers. While she could potentially cure the insanity of the former slaves, it would take too long. During that time, Chaos taint would spread across the planet and root itself deep within the biosphere itself.

At least that was what she heard from Valerian.

After a dignified farewell with the commissar named Alexandros, the girl quickly left, not wanting to grow too attached to the guardsman.

What would happen to him next was not going to be pretty, knowing the Imperium.

Mal couldn't exactly claim the man as her private bodyguard or anything like that. After all, he would not be able to handle himself in the situations that job entailed. It would also deal a large blow to her political reputation.

After all, only a fool would hire an employee tortured to the point of being borderline insane. Well, the commissar wasn't that weak, but people would certainly assume so.

Therefore, as cruel as it was, Mal decided to leave the former slaves to their fates, even if there was only a promise of "purging" for them.

Well, if she cared enough about the commissar and his fellow slaves, she would have bent the rules no matter what. She wasn't the type of person to abide by rules she didn't want to. At least, not anymore.

The problem was only the fact that she did not care for the guardsmen enough to risk her reputation. To her, the commissar was something akin to a passerby at the moment.

Chuckling bitterly to herself, Mal thought,

_"Well, I'm certainly no saint, am I?"_

The girl realized just how cruel she could be in that moment, able to throw away human lives just because she didn't like them enough to save them. It was a terrifying realization, proving that Mal was becoming more akin to the people living in the 40k universe. She was becoming more cruel and apathetic.

Shaking herself out of such thoughts, the girl focused her mind on her new objective. After all, there was no time to think of issues of morals. Not when the bud of corruption was blooming on the planet.

_"Focus, Mal, focus. This isn't your old world. You don't have the luxury to think about morals anymore."_

Slapping her cheeks until they shone with a reddish hue, Mal took a deep breath, looking forward with determined eyes.

Thinking on her options, she tapped her hand in thought.

_"Alright, there are only Necrons and Chaos left. Hmm… I wonder which one I should take out first."_

Mal hummed softly.

"_Well, from what I know of the Necrons so far, they're still marching and raiding Imperial Guard settlements. While that is indeed bad, it can't be compared to the irreversible damage the forces of Chaos are doing to this planet. Honestly, I'm not sure that even I can clean this place of the Warp taint!"_

Nodding in agreement with herself, the girl decided on her next course of action.

_"I probably haven't thought about this long enough, but I'm on a time schedule here. Chaos it is! Besides, there is a slim chance that I can negotiate with the Necrons, so it's best to take care of the more damaging threat first."_

Grinning with confidence, Mal gazed at the scenery in front of her, as if observing a radiant dawn from beyond the horizon. Her amethyst eyes shone with determination, a goal clearly instated in her mind.

Bracing herself for Warp travel, the girl disappeared in a flash of golden light, leaping fearlessly into the unfathomable Immaterium.

The humans she left behind could only observe the act with awed and reverent expressions, deciding to dedicate themselves to the Imperial Faith for the rest of their lives.

Unknown to the Alpha Legion forces on Avarian V, this decision began the countdown to their imminent doom.

Chaos Lord Davtoth Abanath would be described by many people as evil. Responsible for the devastation of several planets, the aspiring Daemon Prince strived to make a name for himself by any means necessary.

The fiend's unholy ambition was only matched by his overwhelming abhorrence of the Imperium and his hatred of the Corpse Emperor, his vile fury burning like a flame threatening to consume all it touched.

Abanath had served during the time of Alpharius Omegon, witnessing many battles during his time under the command of his gene-father, or fathers.

He was an experienced warrior, eager to prove his worth.

Therefore, as a champion of Chaos Undivided, he could not miss the opportunity to corrupt an unsuspecting world and sacrifice its inhabitants to his gods.

Such a feat would surely gain the Lord a great amount of favor from the Ruinous Powers.

Accompanied by an unnamed Chaos sorcerer who seemed to be after the same reward as him, Abanath decimated the Imperial Guard forces on the planet with ease, thanks to the daemons summoned by his newly converted cultists, his losses were at the very minimum.

As the Chaos Lord stood in front of the desecrated stronghold he used as a base of operations, he smiled at his gathered forces with great satisfaction.

Chaos Space Marines marched with perfect synchronization, the sound of ceramite clashing against corrupted earth booming loudly in rhythmic patterns as the superhuman warriors headed out to lay waste to their enemies.

Chaos rhinos sped across the barren and lifeless landscape, ignoring the hideous carcasses of buildings littering the area, brutal reminders of their denizens' hideous fates.

Several squads of Pink Horrors, courtesy of the unnamed sorcerer, roamed around the general vicinity, eager to impose their devastating change on everyone and everything, their strange, revolting bodies flailing about in eager anticipation and joy.

The sorcerer beside Abanath let out a scornful chuckle, a dry and ancient voice, the sound further twisted by the corrupted aid of his vox caster.

The psyker's armor was sharp and cruel, fearsome black and yellow engravings of depraved skulls decorating the daemon-possessed ceramite.

Dark, sinister whispers originating from the cursed armaments could be heard from meters away.

The sorcerer smiled through his rotten, parasite-infested teeth.

"Kukukuku. Soon, lord Abanath. Soon, we shall claim this planet in the name of the Dark Gods, and they shall grant us rewards beyond our wildest imaginations."

The Lord responded coldly to his second in command. He had to be wary around his so-called "subordinate", who would surely stab him in the back if given a chance.

"Yes, sorcerer. As long as you perceive _my_ commands as absolute, our success is all but guaranteed."

Examining his long force staff, a twisted idol in the shape of an eight-pointed star, the psyker answered with an absent-minded tone, smiling as the dense purple Warp energy condensed at the tip of his weapon.

"Yes, I certainly wish for that to be the truth, my lord."

An almost threatening voice came from the aged vox-caster.

"After all, if your orders prove to be ineffective, I will personally elect myself to take your place."

Snarling in subdued rage, Abanath snapped back.

"That will not be necessary, psyker!"

The Sorcerer chuckled again.

"We shall see, my lord. We shall see."

As the dialogue between the two ended, the Chaos Lord smiled with sinister joy once again.

Everything was going perfectly. The Ork forces remaining on the planet somehow became disorganized, fighting amongst themselves like barbarians.

Abanath's scouts reported that all Eldar forces had mysteriously vanished off the face of the map, removing another powerful enemy from the battlefield.

The Sisters of Battle and the Imperial Guard appeared to have stopped attacking entirely, focusing all their forces on defending their territory for some strange reason.

The Space Marines had become simple janitors, cleaning up the broken Ork forces on the planet.

The Chaos Lord was somewhat uncomfortable at this sudden change of fortune in his favor, choosing only to slightly entertain his insecurities.

After all, it was never wise to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Now, the only true threats in the immediate future were the dreaded Necrons and the nimble Drukhari.

These two xenos would prove to be massive thorns in Abanath's side, but with the correct strategies and tactics, he would be able to best them. After all, he had done so in the past.

Grinning deviously, the Chaos Lord let himself feel the joy which he rightfully deserved.

After all, what could go wrong now? The sudden absence of several factions must have been a gift from Tzeentch himself, the cowardliness of the Imperial forces being a gift from Khorn.

His cursed armor reeking of the scent of dried blood, the Lord let out a bellowing laugh, blinded by the apparent favor of his gods.

The Chaos sorcerer was too distracted by the thought of his rewards to care for the arrogance of his leader, simply examining his cursed staff with a distant look in his hidden eyes.

Unknown to the two commanders, everything would soon go so far downhill that it would end up underground. No, it would not be due to their ignorance, nor would it be due to their inability.

No, they would simply be crushed by a power so great that it could be equated to a force of nature.

After all, would you fault a man for his inability to survive a typhoon with nothing but his underwear?

Mal exited the Warp at an area near the Chaos base, planning to release a psychic pulse in a city-wide area to locate the exact location of the Chaos leader and the marines surrounding him.

She noticed the corrupted state of the land, the barren ground positively oozing with unholy energy.

To her overly sensitive nostrils, it smelled of something strange, akin to a mixture of blood and fire with several other various elements mixed in. It was not positive at all whatsoever, causing the girl to wrinkle her nose.

Noticing the apparently normal piece of land near her, Mal realized that her teleportation resulted in the cleansing of the land near her, possibly meaning that the usage of her abilities could purify the area once more.

"_Hmm, that's interesting. I'll try to clean this place up later."_

However, as Mal's powers were extremely subdued, it would appear that her presence was not strong enough to remove the chaotic corruption of the soil.

Well, she wasn't here to do that. Mal had exited the Warp in the first place only to scout the enemy base.

In truth, she would have easily found the base's location simply by noting the level of daemonic activity near her. It would increase further and further the close she went near the Chaos forces.

Even so, it would be much better for her to send forth a psychic pulse and teleport into the enemy base before they can react. After all, doing so would inform her of the exact location of all the Chaos forces. Even if they had a few seconds to move, it would give her better insight into what she was dealing with.

Therefore, with this in mind, Mal released her psychic pulse, mapping everything in its vicinity with pinpoint accuracy. A golden dome of transparent golden energy expanded to an unbelievable scale, moving outwards at an unbelievable pace.

It was only visible to psykers. Normal beings would only be able to sense the energy in the form of sensations.

In but a second, the golden energy pulse reached the Chaos base, washing over every inhabitant of the area, including their sorcerer.

Mal smiled.

"_Oho? What's this? A sorcerer? I'll see what he's capable of. I'll need to control the setting, but I want to see what he can do. I wonder, was he the one who summoned those Pink Horrors?"_

Grinning eagerly, the girl had found herself a new toy. So far, she had not once encountered an opponent who was capable of psychic powers. She wanted to see what they were capable of so she could compare their abilities to her own. Besides, she wanted to learn new techniques. Some of the psykers out there honed their prowess for thousands of years. They would surely have a lot to teach.

"_Alright, I'm excited now. All I have to do is kill almost everyone in the camp and only leave the sorcerer alive. Shouldn't be too hard."_

Closing her eyes in concentration, Mal entered the Warp in a flash of golden light, a glow in her eyes befitting of a mad scientist.

"_Just wait, my little rebellious nephew. I can't wait to get my hands on you. I'm sure that you will act as extraordinary training dummies for my new experiments."_

It was panic. Sheer and utter panic, befitting of the lowliest of knaves with no sense of pride. It was an utterly shameful display which no dignified Space Marine would ever let themselves perform.

Even so, no word more fitting than "panic" could describe the state of the psyker before Abanath.

Sharp, ragged breaths exited the vox-caster of the sorcerer's helm, followed by a low-pitched wail befitting of the most cowardly animal.

The sound of metal clashing could be clearly heard as the entire form of the commander shook with pure fright, using his force staff as leverage to hold himself upright when his quivering knees failed him.

A giant man armed to the teeth in blood-soaked ceramite barely retaining the ability to stand would have been a hilarious subject of mockery for lord Abanath at any other time.

But not today, especially not when he felt that wave of dignified power which brought the chill of death to his bones.

Today, that sight was both terrifying and rage-inducing.

Ripping his bolter pistol from its sheath, the Chaos lord slammed the back of its grip into the helmet of the sorcerer, knocking the man back several feet, a small dent in the ceremite of his headpiece.

With a rage-filled bellow, Abanath demanded answers from the sorcerer.

"Speak now, psyker! What was that abominable presence we felt?!"

The target of the Lord's rage behaved as if his question was never asked at all, gazing absentmindedly at his gauntlets, muttering in some inconceivable gibberish.

The Chaos Lord gritted his teeth. He had enough of this.

The Space Marines around the base stopped their march, their bolters ready to fire at any time. They too had felt that intense wave of golden energy, the sensation of absolute power washing over them. That same power was inherently appealing, capable of inspiring awe even in the most hardened veterans.

However, for the Chaos Space Marines, that power was terrifying. That golden energy, radiating justice and warmth, was the stuff of their very nightmares.

For they knew exactly what it was deep in their hearts, their minds simply refusing to believe the reality of their situation.

The Chaos Lord himself did not notice the slight shaking in his knees and the ice cold sweat dripping from his neck.

The Chaos rhinos stationed at the base readied their weaponry, their drivers not immune to the pulse felt by every living creature in the base.

Abanath pointed his bolt-pistol at the head of his second in command, who was still shaking uncontrollably at the moment.

"SPEAK NOW YOU KHORNE-DAMNED PSYKER! WHAT WAS THAT POWER?!"

It was only then that the sorcerer spoke, his voice shaky and high-pitched. The man knew that he would be shot if he remained silent. Even if his power armor could fend off the bolter round, he did not want to take any chances. The psyker still had that much rationality even in this situation.

However, his words could not be accepted by anyone at the base, especially not Abanath.

No, the implication behind them was simply too staggering and fear-invoking to believe.

Even so, despite the inconceivability of the idea they represented, they sent involuntary shivers down the spines of every Chaos Space Marine near him.

After all, if those words rang true, every single one of them would soon be granted the cold embrace of death.

If they were lucky, then their souls would be sent back to their gods, judged by their dark masters.

However, if _that being _claimed their lives, the Space Marines would face divine judgment in the afterlife, forced to repent in whatever horrifying ways their former master wished. After knowing what _that being_ had become, they weren't sure what to expect from him.

As the psyker's mouth opened once more to deliver his panicked and hysterical statement, the blood of every Astartes in the area turned to ice, threatening to freeze their entire bodies.

"T-t-that power… i-it could only originate from _him_… but it can't be!"

Abanath growled.

"Spit it out already!"

The psyker gulped a mouthful of saliva, a flood of sweat pouring down the interior of his ceremite power armor.

"I-it can only be… T-the… the Corpse-Emperor."

It was if something had finally snapped in the insane mind of Abanath, the Chaos Lord finally accepting the sheer gravity of the situation.

Every fiber of the man's being told him to reject those words, to cast all thoughts of them to the wind and execute the sorcerer right there on the spot.

However, in some hidden part of the Space Marine's mind, he had already accepted his situation, unbelievable as it was.

The rest of the Chaos Space Marines had the same thoughts as the lord, wanting nothing more than to execute the psyker for simply implanting that thought in their mind.

However, they knew it in their souls. Deep down, every single one of them recognized that energy, belonging to the glorious master they had once renounced.

That vibrant golden energy, so thick and concentrated that even a non-psyker could perceive it. That sense of warmth and pride it once inspired in them was instead replaced with blood-chilling fear and absolute gut-wrenching terror.

After all, if the God Emperor of Mankind was truly free from his cursed throne, then the forces of Chaos would suffer crushing defeat. Their forces were by no means as great as they were during the time of the Horus Heresy.

However, before the forces of Chaos could think more on this, the Librarian let out a panicked wail filled with absolute fear and panic.

It was truly an unsettling sight.

After all, the man before them had honed his tainted craft for thousands of years, the blood of thousands staining his misshapen hands. He was a powerful being with the blessings of the Chaos Gods themselves, granted a small portion of their power. He had single-handedly summoned a small army of daemons through his rituals and psychic strength, unaided by any other sorcerers.

With but a wave of his hand, the psyker could rend the flesh from a mortal's body and boil their blood. With but a gaze, he could strike fear into the hearts of the most stalwart of opponents. With but a word, the sorcerer could inflict the gift of madness onto even the most faithful of inquisitors.

Now, this entity of sheer power, worth a whole army in his own right, was clutching his head on the ground, wailing and begging like a five-year-old girl attempting to escape a lashing.

His actions before, while unfitting of him, were nothing compared to this.

Hearts beating rapidly, the Chaos Space Marines truly realized just exactly what kind of situation they were in.

It was at that moment that they finally noticed just how completely and utterly screwed they were.

However, at this point, it was far, far too late.

In the midst of the pleading wails of the Chaos sorcerer, a spectral ticking could be heard faintly, the Space Marines' subconsciousness issuing them a cryptic warning.

As the golden beam of light fell from the heavens, the countdown of the Alpha Legion's demise could be heard all around.

As soon as Mal completed her teleportation to the Chaos base, so full of Warp influence that it was positively bloated with corrupted energy, she noted the gazes of all the Chaos Space Marines which had turned towards her.

She truly wanted to snort at the sight of their unnecessary horns and clear lack of armor maintenance.

Wasn't there already an Astartes chapter called the Minotaurs? These guys were stealing their namesake.

However, as soon as the smell of the place hit Mal's sensitive nose, she immediately raised a gloved hand to pinch it, almost gagging from the pungent stench of blood and viscera combined with corrupted Warp energies.

_"W-what is this smell? It's actually frakking disgusting!"_

It was one of the many times the girl regretted having an enhanced sense of smell.

As soon as Mal recovered from the stench, she observed the Chaos forces around her.

A few tanks, clearly lacking maintenance; were stationed around the area. A large group of Space Marines stood about in organized formations, all directing their bolters towards Mal's general direction.

The heads of several heavy bolter turrets suddenly faced the girl, their barrels already initiating the process of firing their deadly payload.

Mal sighed with apparent annoyance as stared at the Chaos Space marines, who were already firing on her.

Red streaks appeared in the corrupted air as a devastating barrage of bolter rounds converged upon a single target, every single bullet capable of blowing a head-sized hole through a man with ease.

Mal's combat time perception made the deadly rounds appear as if they were moving extremely slowly, many of them coming at her from several directions.

A small smile lit up her face.

_"Wow! This is actually a pretty display! If everything didn't smell like grox excrements, then maybe I could enjoy it!"_

However, as the first bolt flew close to Mal, she decided to take things much more seriously.

After all, she couldn't underestimate her enemies. At least not too much, that is.

_"Hmm… Well, I think they'll survive this. Since the Blood Ravens were mostly fine, I guess I can kick it up a notch. I don't want to kill them unnecessarily. I have to save them for my experiments."_

At that moment, Mal decided to release some of her power, releasing her golden aura to the world once more, chuckling deviously on the inside.

She was a little worried about the sorcerer, but since the librarian from the Blood Ravens survived just fine, this one probably would as well.

Thus, the Emperor's chosen champion revealed her true form to the Chaos Space Marines, that signature angelic halo floating above her head once more.

Granted, it looked pretty strange when coupled with a commissar outfit.

Chaos lord Abanath was both relieved and pissed off at the same time, which was an extremly strange mixture of emotions to feel.

Nevertheless, the blasted sorcerer had decided to give him the wrong information. For that, a punishment would have to be enstated later, something the Lord looked forward to.

However, now was not the time to worry about that. The scrawny girl who had invaded their camp had revealed herself to be a powerful psyker, possibly granted the blessing of the Corpse Emperor himself.

She was no Living Saint, meaning that she could still be dealt with.

Granted, it would cost the lives of all his men along with every single resource he had to offer.

Well, that was still better than dying.

Abanath was completely livid thanks to the fact that his new enemy would probably end up ruining all his plans, but he was so relieved that she wasn't the Emperor that he barely cared.

Abanath's own fanciful imagination almost got him back there.

Right now, the Chaos Lord was ordering all of his men to fire upon the blasted psyker before them, doing the same with his bolt pistol.

He snorted inwardly. What was that ridiculous outfit she was wearing? As if any girl that scrawny could take the position of a commissar.

However, when that same girl revealed her power, blocking all the bolts fired at her with an impenetrable force field surrounding her, Abanath grit his teeth in slight fear.

That power was not of a normal psyker. He could quite literally feel it pushing him to the ground as if increasing the gravity itself.

This was no laughing matter.

The Chaos Lord had no time to ponder how the girl was so strong, only that she was overwhelmingly so. The melancholic expression on her face while her barrier deflected the rounds fired at it gave a glimpse to her strength.

After all, the sorcerer near him did not have that kind of power. He would not have the strength to maintain a barrier that strong even if he possessed a thousand years more of experience.

Abanath had never fought against a Living Saint before, but he was sure that his new enemy was an existence similar to them.

Snarling with anger, he cursed his own luck.

Taking over this planet was supposed to be a simple task. All he had to do was crush the Imperial Guard and convert the citizens to Chaos, or so he thought.

However, this blasted planet was coincidently home to a rising Ork Warboss and a Necron tomb world.

The Eldar were drawn to the appearance of their old foes like moths to their flame, their darker brethren also raiding the planet for some reason.

One would think that was unlucky enough, but no. The Sisters of Battle _and_ the Blood Ravens Space Marines were both deployed to the planet along with new shipments of Imperial Guardsmen.

The Adaptus Soritas, Astartes, and Militant were all on the same planet, fighting the same foes.

When he had heard the news, Lord Abanath had taken a good five minutes accepting just how utterly impossible the situation was. He almost crushed his bolt pistol in his rage.

Just when he thought that luck was finally on his side, several of the factions on the planet having been neutralized, it threw a frakking pseudo-Living Saint at him.

The Chaos lord calmed himself. It would not do good to become enraged in the face of an enemy. He was a leader, not a Khornate berserker. He would not allow himself to plunge into battle with no thoughts to his safety.

Even if the girl was incredibly powerful, there was no possibility of her singlehandedly defeating the whole of his forces here.

Running up to the still shaking sorcerer he had threatened with a bolt-pistol earlier, Abanath gripped the Space Marine by the neck and shook him rapidly.

"Stand, damn you! Stand! Stand and make yourself of use!"

However, the aged psyker before him simply began laughing hysterically even in the face of his colleague's incessant choking. If his eyes were visible, they would have shown the hopelessness and resigned form of a now broken man.

Abanath involuntarily shuddered. Even if the enemy was a Living Saint, what kind of entity was she to drive a Chaos sorcerer mad like this? This psyker, a being so afraid of the concept of death that he sold his soul to the dark Gods, was resigned to the inevitable end like a mortal man? What would that say of the girl's power?

Mangled words came from the sorcerer's vox-caster, the man barely able to coherent form the words due to the lord's now strengthened choking.

"You fool… you do not see… ack... that the girl is simply a new container for the Corpse-Emperor's soul!"

Abanath relinquished the grip on the psyker's throat, suddenly unable to pump strength in his limbs anymore.

In a hollow, almost whispering voice, the Chaos lord asked,

"W-what… what did you just say?"

The sorcerer let out another hopeless chuckle, handprints now present on the neck of his ceremite armor.

"There is no doubt about it! Hahahaha! That is the Corpse-Emperor's new body! Hahahaha!"

The eyes of the psyker seemed to bear into the lord's soul even though both of their helms.

Within those eyes, Abanath could find no dishonesty, no motive for deceit. All he saw were the eyes of a madman, awaiting his death like a filthy animal for slaughter.

"No! I refuse to believe it! The False Emperor would not humble himself by single-handedly raiding one of our bases! Even if he did, he would be followed by his damned Custodians!"

As Abanath attempted to demy his subordinate's statement, a loud feminine groan seemed to echo through the very souls of every Chaos Space Marine present. A perfect voice, putting to shame even the finest strands of silk, echoed throughout the entire area.

The lord soon found two golden orbs bearing into his as the single enemy he faced directed all of her attention to him.

With his enhanced vision, the expression on the girl's face was clear, perfect facial features twisting into a vexed frown.

**"Honestly, what are you saying? How in the damned Warp would you confuse me with my father? Sure I have his blessing, but do you halfwits really think that my power could compare to the Emperor's?"**

She shook her head in annoyance.

**"Did the gene-seed implantation process kill ninety-nine percent of your brain cells, or did it just shrink your brains down to the size of a Dark Eldar's testicles?"**

The Chaos lord's face went wide at shock for a moment before contorting into an expression of rage.

"You dare mock me, Imperial wretch?!"

The abilities of his foe forgotten, Abanath felt rage threatening to consume him.

He had not betrayed humanity and offered his soul to the Chaos Gods to let some scrawny girl mock him like this.

He shouted to his men,

"Fire! Fire damn you! This loyalist wench will not be able to hold back our bolts forever!"

The girl sighed with an expression similar to one an educated man would make in the face of an ignorant buffoon.

**"You're right. I can't hold this barrier forever. However, I can indeed maintain it long enough to slaughter every single one of you ten times over."**

Abanath growled.

"A boastful overestimation of your abilities, I'm sure."

By this point, the Chaos rhinos had begun firing their deadly laser and bolt weaponry at the girl, thick streaks of red light and crimson projectiles speeding forth at unimaginable speeds.

The pink horrors threw their blasts of Warp flame forward, laughing in some crude form of primal joy.

This made absolutely no difference. In fact, the girl's face now showed a smile, one that someone would make in the face of a fanciful display of beauty.

She was enjoying the sight of the las-beams and fire blasts being launched at her shields as if it was a fireworks display during a festival, every impact of projectiles on her force shield creating another showing of crude beauty.

Gritting his teeth at this realization, Abanath's frustration grew. This foe was beginning to appear too powerful for his forces to handle.

However, he still had the number advantage. Even if the girl was extremely powerful, she was still a single unit. A single person fighting against an entire base full of Chaos Space Marines.

She would soon tire, allowing Abanath to banish her back to wherever the Corpse-Emperor kept these little lackeys. After all, his target did not appear to be attacking back at the moment.

Whether she was looking down on them, or if she did not have the power to mount an assault, it all worked to the Chaos lord's advantage.

Abanath lived in an age where no commander would be so idiotic that they would throw themselves at an entire enemy base without any of their men.

Only the Primarchs were able to do that, and this girl; powerful as she was, was no Primarch.

Completely ignoring the presence of the sorcerer, as he would be no help to anyone as he was now, the lord put his hope in the Ruinous Powers to strike his target down.

Surely, the Chaos Gods would answer the prayers of one of their aspiring champions, right?

_(Obnoxious laughter could be heard in the distance, but Abanath simply shrugged it off as being a hallucination)_

Mal looked outside her gold-tinged force field, surrounding her like a bubble. She observed the Chaos forces, scrutinizing them through the deafening fire of boltguns and lascannons.

"_Interesting… Their wargear is in considerably in good shape even after ten thousand years. It might be because of daemonic blessings, but they actually look pretty good, if they were not covered in blood and severed heads that is."_

The smell really made her want to wrinkle her nose, but Mal bore the stench. After all, she would have to get used to this in future encounters.

Focusing her gaze on the cowering sorcerer on the ground, Mal raised an eyebrow.

"_Umm… Weren't sorcerers supposed to be these all-powerful edgy weirdos who thought they were better than everyone else? Why is the one over there just sobbing like crazy?"_

The girl was about to activate her mind-reading abilities when the psyker let loose his ridiculous statement.

Eyes widening, Mal snorted.

"_Wow, I'm dealing with actual retards right now."_

After an exchange of insults with the Chaos lord she assumed to be their leader, Mal decided to finally read their minds.

The girl decided to seal off her mind-reading abilities during her stay with her father. After all, always hearing the immediate thoughts of the people around you was not good for your mental health.

However, when she awakened it, most of the Space Marines were silent. This included the lord, but not the sorcerer.

Mal was not surprised.

"_Hmm, their mental fortitude is pretty good. I'll have to specifically break into their minds if I want to know anything. Well, I'm don't need to do that right now, so I won't."_

This passive psychic ability only allowed Mal to hear the current thoughts of the surrounding people. It could not search through memories, nor could it reveal someone's true nature. Moreover, creatures with strong mental fortitude could seal off their mind to this power.

The sorcerer obviously was not in the state of mind to erect his mental shields.

Therefore, Mal was able to read him like an open book.

"_Seriously? Does this guy actually think that my body is a vessel for Dad's soul? Honestly, how stupid can you get? Dad was probably holding back most of his power when this guy saw him then. Hmm… moreover, it sounds like this guy is hysterical right now. It seems like he has accepted his death."_

Mal genuinely pondered over this in her mind.

After all, if this Space Marine was truly a sorcerer, wouldn't he have enough faith in his gods to attempt to kill her?

Well, either he didn't trust his gods nearly as much as one would think, or he simply thought the Emperor was just that strong.

This changed nothing, of course, so it didn't matter too much. She would still capture the psyker and do some small experiments on him after she disposed of the rest of his kin. The objective was the same.

"_Yeah, I think that's enough observing for now. It's time to begin the experiments."_

Mal warned the Chaos Space Marines in her mind.

"_Just because you guys are my nephews doesn't mean I'll go easy on you. Don't expect to get out of this alive!"_

As her expression changed from a lax one to a face full of severity and bloodlust, Mal began her performance.

Chaos lord Abanath looked at the girl in fury, his mind was rapidly thinking.

"_Why?! Why won't that accursed barrier fall?! Our bolts have been pounding at it for three whole minutes now! Is this wench that powerful?!"_

However, he then realized that there was another solution to the problem. The girl's barrier was probably unable to fend off the intrusion of his forces at melee range. That was typically a trait of force shields employed by sorcerers. Therefore, he might have a chance if he sent his soldiers for a close-range assault.

A vicious smile on his face, the lord called to his men.

"Space Marines! Take up-"

However, he was completely cut off by the action of his target.

The girl's expression instantly changed from one of annoyance and disappointment to one of bloodlust, her mesmerizing purple eyes appearing to be much more sinister.

A malicious smirk decorated her face as she stated,

**"Well, I guess I should get serious..."**

Those words would serve to instill a sense of panic into every single Chaos Space Marine as they unconsciously urged their weapons to fire faster, desperately hoping to break the barrier before their enemy could unleash whatever horrors she had access to.

The words she spoke were ominous, a hint to something the Alpha Legion could not accept.

Even the Librarian, who was still teetering upon the edge of insanity, sensed the severity of the situation at hand, mustering all of his strength to send off a deadly doombolt at the girl.

However, the malevolent beam of purple Lightning was simply deflected on the golden force shield scattering into harmless dispersed Warp particles.

Abanath didn't even have the time to curse before his entire body was pushed to the ground with a booming thud, accompanied by his men, all falling to the same fate.

_"This pressure, I'm being crushed!"_

The Chaos lord grit his teeth, desperately fighting against the force which slammed his entire being to the ground. His body was enveloped in a commanding, boiling aura, sweat traveling down his body in rivers. He was quite literally being compressed and cooked inside his armor simply because of close proximity with the girl's body.

Fright took over the lord's body for a moment before hate and scorn replaced it. This was not the time to be fearing for his life. He would find a way out of this and execute his opponent spectacularly. After all, he had done so for several millennia. This situation, as hopeless it looked, would be no different. The Ruinous Powers would protect their devoted servant.

Redirecting his hideous glare towards his target hatefully, Abanath enacted a final display of defiance. He could do no more than this for now.

Almost solidified wisps of golden Warp energy rolling off her in waves, the now golden-eyed girl, smiled, a shining yellow halo positioned over her head.

**"Hmm, so this much power leaves you like this, huh? That is bothersome. I can't test you as well as I'd like now. Especially that psyker over there."**

The saint-like figure, appearing to be a god incarnate, wrinkled her nose in disgust.

**"Great, now all my senses have been enhanced by this power boost, I can smell my surroundings better. Ugh! It smells horrible!"**

Her statement was ignored by Abanath, of course, as he was too busy thinking of a way out of his predicament.

The Chaos forces located far away from the girl were able to escape the brunt of her psychic impact, shaken, but still able to fire their weapons.

Mal grinned, a light orange taint afflicting the color of her eyes for a split second, a second Abanath did not miss.

Somehow, a chill spread throughout the Chaos lord's body even when it felt as if it was being boiled.

Abanath had a very bad feeling about this.

Abanath was confused. He was very, very confused.

His enemy, who could have easily have put him to death in an instant, had spared him.

Just what was the girl doing?

As the bolt rounds and las-beams of the Chaos Space Marines glanced off her psychic barrier, the girl turned to the Chaos lord, a calculating stare in her eyes.

Even Abanath was disturbed by this, and he had been the target of affection for many Daemonnets.

There was just something in those light orange eyes which terrified him to his core. They were akin to the eyes of a machine, devoid of emotion.

However, When the girl actually pointed at him, practically stating his death sentence, the capability for thought simply left the lord's mind.

"_I-is this truly a servant of the Emperor?!"_

Just as this thought entered the Chaos lord's mind, his mouth widened in shock, sweat dripping from his brow in rivers.

After all, what happened next was simply too terrifying to conceive.

The girl seemed to be focusing nearly all her attention on her hands, which were opened wide, as if preparing to conjure a spell.

Soon after, a massive spike of energy burst from the space in front of her open palms, appearing in the span of a single instant.

Abanath had no idea just exactly what that small orb was. However, he knew instantly that it would not be used for any purpose beneficial to him.

He struggled even harder against the pressure his enemy excreted, but was unsuccessful in escaping its pressing force.

The lord's eyes then widened in disbelief, not daring to believe just what was happening in front of him.

He could only watch in growing despair as that small orb grew larger and larger, transforming from a spherical speck of light into a large orb the size of a whole Space Marine.

Suddenly, he realized just what that flaming orb was.

"By the thousand tomes of Tzeentch, this cannot be!"

Gazing forward in disbelief, lord Abanath found himself staring directly into what could be summarized as a small sun, hot and burning.

Strangely, that sun gave off no heat. While it would not have been enough to harm the Space Marine, Abanath found it ominously curious.

Before he had the time to think on this, however, Abanath was greeted with another unbelievable sight.

As the girl's hands began to shake, her eyes shut firmly in concentration, the sun slowly began to disappear.

No, rather than disappear, it would seem as if it as being covered by something.

Soon, the sun's coverage seemed to be finished, even though a part of it was still visible to Abanath.

It was just the front portion, the part where he could observe with the perfect viewing point.

It should have been a relief to see the disappearance of that solar construct, glorious as it was. Even if it was probably concealed instead of destroyed, the temporary removal of such an object should have been cherished, taken as a blessing from the gods themselves.

However, if this was true, then why exactly did Abanath feel as if he was staring down the barrel of a bolter?

A few seconds later, this question would be answered.

The Chaos lord known as Davtoth Abanath disappeared without a trace, not even leaving his weapons and armor behind.

And it would not be thanks to the meddling of his gods.

As Mal created an entire sun, the girl's mind was filled with joy. She would be leaping about if not for the fact that most of her attention was focused on the project before her.

_"Oh, I actually did it? This was easier than I thought it would be."_

Amplifying the gravity of a single space to the point where nuclear fusion occurred was not a simple task, nor was it easy.

However, Mal was able to accomplish it by using most of the power in the not-fully-revealed form of hers. It spoke volumes of her true strength.

Grinning with satisfaction, she clicked her tongue.

_"Well, the hard part is actually maintaining it, not to mention that I haven't even started on the other parts of my laser cannon."_

Yes, Mal's goal was indeed to create an all-powerful laser cannon.

She was obsessed with the idea of it, especially after seeing the las weaponry of the galaxy, only able to fire in single bursts.

During her time with the Emperor, a thought traveled across her mind.

_"What if I can make a weapon that shoots lasers forever?"_

Well, if it would perform the way she expected it to, then it would be an endlessly firing laser blaster, so it would have no right to be called a cannon…

To remove the possibility of too much heat permeating from the sun, Mal had constructed a spherical psychic barrier to hold in the devastating temperatures of the star. She also created another barrier around the sun to specifically restrain most of the light, as she did not want to be blinded by her own creation.

Holes were intentionally created all over the heat barrier in order to prevent it from straining too much against the barely-contained heat.

Mal smiled triumphantly.

_"Well, the barrier won't be able to hold the heat forever, but it should do fine for a while." _

She began to work on the next stage of her plan.

_"Hmm… There is another scientific principle I would like to explore. Well, I figure I should combine it with the current experiment. After all, what is a cannon without its barrel?"_

Even though there would be no real cannon, it would seem that Mal was adamant on the subject.

Using her psychic power to compress several layers of air around her to unbelievable levels, Mal was able to transform it into a perfect tool for camouflage.

The air, while under heavy pressure; would disturb the refraction of light in a way that rendered anything past it completely invisible.

This highly compressed air would be the barrel Mal would use for her "cannon".

_"Camoflaushing the sun was something unnecessary in this situation, but it could possibly be useful in the future." _

This is what Mal thought, while in reality, she simply wanted to put the result of another experiment with her first.

It was a strange hobby, but for someone like Mal, it was not unusual.

The girl reshaped the newly compressed air into the shape of a cannon barrel, positioned around the sun as if it was a cannonball.

If this cannon of hers would be used in covert operations later in her life, then Mal would use the compressed air to cover up the barrel of the weapon to hide the sun within. When the beam sped forth, a simple wall of air, even when compressed; would be of no consequence.

However, she decided to give in to her laziness this time, as it was mentally taxing to perform so many actions at one time.

Mal had to maintain the sun, generating a ridiculous amount of gravity at its center to prolong its lifespan and project the barrier, which was slightly strained from the sun's heat.

Now, she had to maintain the compression of the barrel as well, not to mention hold it in its shape with her telekinesis.

Not to mention the effects of the sun's leaking heat on the compressed air.

She had to hold the barrel in shape against the overwhelming gravity at the sun's center combined by the heated air which greeted it. The now excited molecules from the compressed air, imbued with heat from the sun; began to resist her telekinesis more fervently, akin to a small child wanting to escape from his parents.

Mal began to sweat from the continuous mental strain from the several different processes, almost withdrawing the barrier she placed around her to reflect enemy fire.

To a normal person, performing the actions Mal enacted would be akin to solving three to four different twenty-digit by twenty-digit multiplication problems at the same time.

The only thing that allowed the girl to carry out her experiments was her overwhelming greed for knowledge and nothing more.

Even among genetically-enhanced beings like Mal, what she was doing took the mental power of a ridiculously determined mind.

_"N-now, I only have to make the lenses!"_

Indeed, that would be the final step. After the completion of the lenses, the laser would be complete. How long Mal would be able to maintain it for would be a whole different problem altogether.

_"Hmm… I should make all of them at the same time. After all, I don't want the beam to get stronger over time, do I? No, that would make it look lame, even if it would be easier…"_

Mal was now obsessed with dramatic magnificence.

In an instant, the girl began construction of the magnifying lenses. (in her head)

If water was used to amplify the light, it would instantly evaporate.

Even if sand was used to make high-quality glass, something Mal was quite capable of doing using the materials presented in her location; it would still not be optimal.

After all, if this cannon idea would be reused in the future, relying on an environment with sand or glass would not be a good idea.

This was why Mal would use her own psychic barriers as the lenses for her weapon.

After all, Mal was partially a being of the Warp. Something like using Warp energy to make barriers was like waving an arm to her. How strong the barrier would be was an entirely matter altogether though…

Well, this time, the force barriers were fueled by Mal's raw determination to complete her experiments, so they would not dissipate easily at all.

Even if psychic barriers were technically not considered solid, the fact that they were observable meant that they reflected light. Even if the Immaterium was an illogical place, it would not deny the laws of physics this small foothold.

Therefore, with the almost transparent properties of the barrier, Mal would be able to make the perfect lenses for her weapon.

Soon, the calculations within Mal's mind drew to a close as the lenses formed within the barrel of the laser cannon, a multitude of circular barriers amplifying the light of the sun by ridiculous amounts.

The girl instantly released her light-suppressing barrier around the sun.

As Mal finally witnessed the fruits of her labor, she smiled victoriously, glad of the success of her experiment.

After all, the weapon she made was nothing short of devastating.

Lord Abanath was no more.

After the completion of their enemy's unbelievable weapon, the incredibly wide beam of light completely incinerated the Chaos lord, leaving nothing behind.

However, even after that event, the enemy psyker was not satisfied.

The powerful laser weapon seemed to project a beam which would stay materialized for an extended amount of time, completely reducing the ground to molten magma mere seconds after the death of the Chaos lord.

Immediately after this, the golden psyker changed the direction of her cannon with the swing of a single hand, the laser sweeping across the Chaos territory at an incredible speed.

Dozens of Space Marines, turrets, and rhinos were instantly incinerated.

It seemed as if not even the sturdiness of adamantium could defend them against that accursed beam of light, immediately melting away as soon as the beam hit.

The men did not even have the time to scream as they died, the terrifying weapon of judgment leaving nothing behind except for rivers of molten magma.

At the start of the battle, the Pink Horrors of Tzeentch dissipated all at once with horrifying screams of agony, as if unable to withstand the mere presence of the girl.

The few surviving Space Marines all had the same thoughts speed across their minds.

"_Just what manner of being are we fighting?"_

The Chaos forces immediately regretted their decision to stay during this battle.

Even so, it was far too late for remorse. Therefore, at the rally of a seemingly capable Space Marine, the soldiers regrouped, thinking of one last strategy which would hopefully allow their victory.

They did not seem to realize that most of their casualties stemmed from the Space Marines who attempted to flee the battlefield, nor the cruel smile of greed upon their enemy's lips.

Mal was amazed.

The experiment yielded much better results than what she imagined.

After all, she had not been expecting to be able to instantly penetrate both ceremite and adamantium with her new weapon.

Mal expected at least some meager amount of resistance from her foes, but it would seem that they would provide none.

As she directed the beam of her laser in sideways sweeps across the landscape, incinerating several traitor Astartes and cutting through buildings, the girl realized that the temperatures from her cannon could melt through solid rock, reducing it to nothing but magma, as shown by the results of her field experiment.

The weapon did not seem to possess a set range, its payload extending as far as her eyes could see, which was more than several miles.

After realizing this, Mal thought,

"_Isn't this too overpowered?!"_

She could not be faulted for her thoughts.

After all, a weapon like this was not as devastating as some others in the Imperial arsenal, but devastation wasn't the subject here.

Mal knew for a fact that she would be able to reproduce this weapon of hers in the future, perhaps even creating multiples of them at the same time.

It wasn't easy for her now, but with enough practice, it would be.

Therefore, wouldn't that mean that she had the arsenal of an entire army on her side?

What use were soldiers if she could simply wipe out everything on the battlefield?

Moreover, this weapon wasn't the end of Mal's genius ideas.

With her great powers, capable of bending reality itself to her will, what new and unreasonable weapons would she create in the future?

However, in an instant, such thoughts were removed from her mind.

After all, Mal's mad scientist side was now thinking of ways to reproduce her laser cannons on smaller scales, as handheld firearms.

It would be such an improvement upon Imperial las-weaponry that it wouldn't even be funny.

After all, one las-bolt could never hope to melt through ceremite power armor. However, this new weapon could do so with ease, encompassing an unimaginable amount of las-gun shots in the span of a single second.

Nothing but a void-shield could stop a weapon of such power.

"_Hehehe! Just think of something like this being installed on spaceships! Not even the Necrons would be able to stand up to our navy!"_

Mal then frowned, her cheerful mood slightly dampening.

"_Well, before that, I have to find a way to reproduce this effect without the help of my psychic powers. I can only talk about mass production after that."_

There was no possibility of any other Imperial psyker other than Mal being able to create a whole sun, nor was there the possibility of containing the sheer power from the weapon with any barrel.

The effect could probably be reproduced with another lighting agent, such as fire. Even so, the barrel would still suffer from overheating, and the magnification lenses would have to be incredibly strong and sturdy at the same time.

In short, it was nigh impossible to make another version of the cannon without it being too weak, fragile, or expensive.

Imperial technology, at least from what she had seen of it from her father's showings, was still too primitive to entertain some of her ideas.

Then again, what was even the point of it?

Continuous lasers were costly. They were precise, but not as useful as an explosion.

Therefore, wouldn't the Imperium be fine the way they were with their continent-vaporizing lances?

As Mal pouted in annoyance, she glanced at the leftover Space Marines she had purposely spared, dissipating her cannon in the meantime, she smiled once more.

After all, that idea would not be the only one she would test today.

Not when there were so many guinea pigs and testing dummies for her to use.

The Chaos forces seemed to be grouped together, a makeshift commander shouting out orders.

Mal shook her head, seeing nothing but test subjects before her.

"_I wonder how long they'll last." _

**I don't claim to be knowledgeable about science, because I'm really not.**

**Therefore, I might have gotten some things wrong about the effects of nuclear fusion, the things necessary for nuclear fusion, and how bright or hot the sun is.**

**I probably got a lot of other things wrong too.**

**So, if you know a lot about science, feel free to point out any mistakes I might have made.**

**I'll try to see if I can adjust it if I can.**


	10. Necron Destruction and First Epilogue

**Please keep in mind that I'm greatly altering parts of the personalities of the factions in this story arc.**

**After all, it's impossible to actually come up for a reason about this scenario which doesn't include making half the faction leaders weirdos and idiots among their own people. **

**The bases, defenses, turrets, and tactics aren't accurate, since it follows a more DOW-ish style. **

**You can expect this to change completely in future arcs…. Probably….**

**Oh, by the way, I realized that there's already a known Custodes in the lore named Valerian, and he's a shield captain… Yeah, I don't know what to say at all. I really don't. I'll just pretend that guy doesn't exist.**

**Btw… my POV system seems to be broken. I'll try to fix it, but no promises...**

"_It turns out that they did not last very long after all."_

This is what Mal thought as she observed the cooling molten rock and metal which used to make up the Chaos' central encampment.

According to her sources, their forces constructed several other outposts all across the continent.

However, that could be dealt with later. After all, Mal had just cut off the head of the Chaos forces.

Despite being the sons of Alpharius Omegon, it would appear that these hydras would not be able to grow back their heads.

Mal simply observed the carnage before her as she furrowed her brows, immobilizing the sorcerer which she had captured with telekinesis.

"_I guess that laser really can't be used in battle after all. It would be great if I could find some incredibly heat resistant materials to mass produce, but it still wouldn't work the way I want it to."_

Mal realized that in the end, all she could do was to offer a few slight improvements to Imperial lasguns with her current ideas, and even that would take some time.

There were probably plenty of people who wanted to create the laser weapon she had made, but were unable to do so without access to completely heat resistant materials.

They had run into the same problems she did, and gave up on their experiments.

In the end, lasguns were the best product they were able to produce. A continuous laser blaster could be made easily, but if the laser was strong, then the weapon's body would not be able to handle it.

This was the reason las-guns fired single rounds. After all, it maximized power in the span of a single moment, which was much better for the weapon than continuous fire.

Mal sighed in dejection as she realized this.

"_Well, I can probably offer a few improvements in the future, but right now, basic guardsman weapons will have to stay the way they are. It can't be helped."_

Looking the sorcerer before her, who was apparently frightened out of his mind, Mal raised an eyebrow.

"_Is this guy really a sorcerer? I mean, wouldn't he think that his gods will protect him or something?"_

Mal smiled.

"_Could it be that this guy sold his soul, but does not truly believe in the power of his patrons? Really? How does that even work?"_

Mal prepared to interrogate the sorcerer about all the Chaos information he knew. After that, she would do a few experiments with him to test out her psychic powers on his mind.

He was the only one who could give her this information.

After all, all the others were dead, burned to the point where it seemed like they never existed in the first place.

Besides, they probably wouldn't know too much anyways.

However, as Mal opened her mouth to question her new prisoner, now clad in shimmering gold, a side effect of her powerful psychic might controlling the air; the sorcerer immediately began convulsing.

Though her bindings, the Space Marine shook and frenzied, his body bending in unnatural angles while he screamed in sheer agony.

Just as Mal reached forth with her powers to restrain her prisoner with even more strength, he disappeared in a dreadful flash of blue light.

Before she could even think of what was happening, a mischievous voice whispered in her ear.

Mal could hear the voice coming from her own head, almost booming.

The voice was full of glee, like a child who ate too much sugar.

However, it was also ancient, repulsive, and ominous.

The incoherent noises changed at such a speed that it was as if the voices of a thousand men, women, and children spoke at the same time.

Mal instantly knew who was talking to her, immediately unleashing all her power in a flash of brilliant gold, spectral wings of dark yellow mist emerging from her back.

Her eyes, now burning with golden warpfire, shone with determination as her body tensed completely.

Reality itself did not seem to be able to restrain her might, as everything around her distorted and changed with golden streaks of fire and electricity.

Her voice, now powerful and stern, rang across the surrounding area, mighty and glorious.

It was as if a hundred holy saints of the utmost devotion spoke out at the same time, bring about a sound both divine and merciless.

Mal had never met him before, but she knew instantly that only one entity in all of creation could be able to produce that voice. It was instantly registered as a fact in her brain.

She wasn't even going to ask how he was inside of her mind. There was just no applying logic to Warp gods. Mal wouldn't try to forcibly eject him out of her head either, as it would cause a massive headache if he provided resistance.

However, if his intentions were harmful, Mal was sure she could pull it off somehow.

"**Tzeench!"**

At this, the Changer of Ways simply chuckled inside Mal's mind, amused with her display.

"_**Ah, yes. It would seem like that anathema provided you with quite a bit of his power. Rest assured, however. I am not here to fight."**_

Mal raised an eyebrow. She spoke in a way which did not suit the quality of her voice whatsoever, slightly panicking.

"**Huh? Do you think I'm stupid? Of course I know that you didn't come here to fight! Since when does a Warp god fight with itsy bitsy mortals like me?"**

The Changer of Ways was incomprehensible. Untangling his web of words would not be easy.

Tzeench chuckled again.

"_**Kukuku. You really don't realize the extent of your own abilities, do you?"**_

"**What do you mean?"**

Tzeench snorted inside of Mal's mind, somehow.

"_**Kuh, never mind. The things you can do, even I'm troubled by them."**_

Mal's eyes widened, soon narrowing after. There were no telling truths from lies when dealing with the Changer of Ways, so nothing he said was certain. She completely changed the direction of the conversation.

"**You, could it be that you're afraid of what I would learn from that little sorcerer of yours? Is that why you sent him back to your realm?"**

Tzeench chuckled again.

"_**Huhuhuhu. You really don't get it, do you? Well, that's fine. Just know that I didn't come here to fight you."**_

Mal was still tensed, completely on guard. She had no idea what Tzeench was trying to say anymore. There were too many unknown factors.

"**You… you're not making sense. I know that you're probably a million steps ahead of me, but can you dumb it down to the level of a normal person?"**

Somehow, Mal felt Tzeench shrug in her mind. How this was possible, she didn't know.

She knew that he had not come to battle, but since when had Tzeench ever went to anyone to fight? He was probably trying to corrupt Mal, turn her into a puppet, or just to mess with her for the sake of messing with her.

Mal sincerely hoped that it was the third option.

"_**Hmm. Fine, I guess that's alright."**_

Mal sighed in relief. She could now have a proper conversation with the being who could manipulate destiny itself… not like that could be a good thing.

"**So, Tzeench, why exactly are you here? I know that you don't exactly do something like this all the time, and you should know that corrupting me is impossible."**

The changing voice chuckled once again. Mal was seriously beginning to hate that sound.

"_**I suppose you can say that I've come to meet you, to scout the competition, you could say. After all, I can't just leave someone like you alone, can I? Not when you have the potential to foil nearly all of my plans."**_

Mal snorted.

"**I know that there are at least ten more reasons judging from what I know about you. Besides, it's not like I can really foil that many of your plans. I'm only one person."**

Mal sighed.

"**To be honest, I'm probably weaker than Magnus in his Daemon Prince form."**

There were no real consequences of saying this, as she didn't actually know if it was true, as she had never met Magnus. Besides, someone as powerful as the god of change would easily be able to see all of her power.

He would know the truth of Mal's statement better than her.

"_**Hehehehehe. As I said, you don't get it."**_

Mal groaned.

"**You know, knowing your nature, I'm not even going to try to get answers out of you. Now, can you just leave if you're not going to tell me anything useful? I have to exterminate the Necrons if they're hostile. I don't want them to have the time to move out too far."**

Again, telling this information to Tzeench would not be of consequence. He would already know of the planet's situation and the various factions on its surface. Mal wasn't saying anything the Changer of Ways didn't already foresee.

"_**Yes, yes. I'll be going. This wasn't an important visit anyways."**_

Mal could feel the voice in her head growing weaker and weaker. It seemed as if Tzeench was truly intending on leaving.

She decided not to say anything more, as it would possibly prolong the stay of the Chaos God.

Even if Mal didn't necessarily hate Tzeench, having someone like him in her mind was not a pleasant experience. The ominous and untrustworthy feeling his voice gave off was too much even for her.

As the ever-changing voice in Mal's mind disappeared, it left behind one last warning.

"_**Oh, by the way, the others are interested in you now."**_

It seemed to chuckle again, much more sinister this time.

In fact, the sheer malevolence of that tone was enough to make Mal shudder even in her true form.

"_**Good luck."**_

"Ugh! I just can't stand that guy!"

Mal was currently flying in the Necron-infested desert on Avarian V, a land of dry sand dunes and lifeless wastelands.

She wanted to send a psychic pulse forward, but decided not to in the end. After all, it was possible that the Necrons would be able to conceal their base. Even if they couldn't, they would still be prepared for her arrival.

The Necrons might have been slow, but they weren't stupid. They would notice her psychic pulse as an enemy scouting method in an instant and prepare accordingly.

Therefore, Mal would simply fly high up into the air and use her ridiculously good vision to spot the Necron base.

However, as she was doing this, Mal thought of her meeting with Tzeench,

"_Geez. I know that the Warp gods would be interested in me eventually, but the way that guy warned me was just too suspicious. What was with that weird tone? Don't tell me that they're obsessed with me!?"_

Mal knew that the Warp Gods would eventually show some interest or negativity towards her, as she was something of a threat to them. However, if they had developed obsessions towards her, then it would not be good.

Mal did not want to be the object of obsession to beings who possessed the qualities of the sadists and berzerkers with mind-boggling powers.

She did not want to even think of the indescribable horrors they would expose her to.

It would truly be troubling if that was the case, so Mal wished against it with all her heart.

"_It's probably best not to think about it for now. If the Necrons are worshipping a C'tan, I'll have to crush them. If they're not worshipping a C'tan but are arrogant, genocidal pricks, then I'll have to crush them too., albeit not too roughly."_

Out of all her enemies, Necrons were the ones Mal feared the most.

Judging by what the Emperor had shown her back in the Warp, these green slaughter machines had conquered their own gods with nothing but technology alone, something that she did not know by her knowledge of the 40k lore.

Moreover, fighting the Old Ones during the War in Heaven probably forced them to create a multitude of anti-psyker weapons.

Considering the Necrons had made a machine which allowed them to practically blow up any sun in the galaxy, Mal just couldn't put anything past them anymore.

She was actually nervous about this encounter.

"_Well, these guys are from a newly awakened tomb world, so I don't think that they necessarily have the weaponry to defeat me. I'm confident that I can take out the lord before he can utilize the C'tan shard, if he has one." _

Paranoia for the Necrons not quite leaving her thoughts, Mal continued to fly until she encountered the Necron base.

It didn't take very long, as her flight allowed Mal to travel several times faster than a land speeder. She would be able to go even faster if she could properly control her powers with more experience.

Mal stopped midair, observing the green and black structures in the sand-covered desert.

She wasn't particularly scared, but the ominous structures built there filled her with a senseless dread that could not be described.

The Necrons had a base with an area of a whole mile, a large central monolith surrounded by strange, green generators and gauss turrets. The architecture of the structures was archaic, yet advanced.

They had technology which outstripped both the Tau and the Imperium by possibly millions of years.

Even so, the numerous pylons and pyramids appeared ancient, working with undiscovered properties which would appear to be magic to the uneducated.

All was silent in the desert except for the whistling of sand and the dull thrumming of turrets and generators.

With her incredible field of vision, Mal made out a figure within the strategically erected Necron base, home to their newly awakened masters.

She was able to make out a Necron Lord, hunched over as if unable to straighten his back. Even when he appeared to be covered in sand and dust, the ancient noble still somehow carried himself with dignity, his shredded black cape flapping in the dry, hot air. The Lord's staff of light glowed with ominous energy, the same reflecting from his eyes. Somehow, this caused Mal to be perturbed.

Even when she was dozens of miles away from the base, suppressing most of her psychic powers using the method she had discovered, Mal still felt vulnerable for some unknown reason.

However, that reason was soon uncovered, as the Necron Lord of Avarian V; who was supposed to be ignorant of her presence, snapped his glowing viridian eyes towards her own, pointing with a single metal finger.

Mal was barely able to erect her barrier on time as the hostile Necron Lord appeared behind her in a flash of emerald lightning, thrusting forth his bladed staff.

As the monomolecular blade of the staff of light glanced off Mals personal psychic shield, her eyes widened in surprise.

"_Seriously?! His vision is that good?!"_

Almost instantly afterward, the Necron Lord began to drop to the ground, his metal body falling at incredible speeds.

This was to be expected. After all, he had attacked Mal, who was hundreds of feet in the air, with a melee weapon.

As the Lord continued to fall, Mal followed him, relinquishing control over her flight-inducing telekinesis.

Her golden cape fluttered gracefully in the air as she fell towards a dune of sand head-first.

"_Hmm. This is a good chance to chop off the head of the Necron body. They might stop working as efficiently if I just kill this guy. Still though, I have to confirm his identity as a C'tan worshipper first. It seems obvious enough, but if I'm not completely sure, then there'll be hell to pay."_

Mal wanted to propose a ceasefire, or even a mutually beneficial alliance between The Silent King's Necron forces and the Imperium. Therefore, she would avoid killing his vassals as much as she could.

However, if they worshipped the C'tan star gods, then Szarekh probably wouldn't complain very much.

This is why Mal had to confirm the true allegiance of her current opponent, the Necron Lord of Avarian V.

In the last second of her descent, Mal used her telekinesis to push her up with enough force to nullify the kinetic energy of her fall, allowing her to land gracefully upon the pile of yellowish brown. She jumped off the sand dune, brushing off the sand and dust from her clothing.

Not surprisingly, the air resistance wasn't nearly enough to harm her.

Mal saw the Necron lord a few feet away from her, sprawled in a star-like shape with several dents and deformations in his metal body. The fall eas not enough to disable any of his limbs, nor was it enough to cave in any part of his body.

The Lord rose quickly, mechanic legs dragging forth a body shimmering with green lightning. The dents in his chest and spine were all repaired in but an instant, the naturally regenerating necrodermis reducing itself to a liquid-like state before reshaping the portions of the Necron's body.

Completely silent, the Necron Lord brandished his staff of light, shooting forth beams of pulsing green lightning at Mal.

These attacks would do nothing to their target.

The deadly discharges of a staff of light which could easily reduce a man to ashes were easily deflected by the circular barrier Mal erected around herself, making her impervious to ranged attacks.

The Necron Lord easily closed the distance between them, shooting bolts of searing energy all the way.

Mal was frowning, shocked on the inside.

"_N-no way! What is that broken weapon! It's easily more potent than everything the Dark Eldar and the Imperium have!"_

It might have seemed that the energy bolts were not sufficient to even scratch Mal's psychic force field, but it was doing much better than the tanks and raiding ships of Chaos and Drukhari forces.

It was like comparing a baseball's destructive power to a grenade's.

Well, it didn't matter in this fight, as that grenade was facing a tungsten wall at the moment.

However, against regular Imperial forces, the Necrons would completely dominate the battlefield. Mal was sure of it.

The only way they could be defeated would be pure strategical wit and overwhelming speed. That would be the only feasible way to win against Necron forces.

Mal realized this a while ago, but seeing the real thing in action was much different.

A weapon this potent made even the most advanced of bolters look like a joke.

However, this information also brought a smile to Mal's lips.

If this technology could be reproduced, then the Imperium would have a much better alternative to las-guns and even bolters.

Well, something as a staff of light would probably take thousands of years to understand and reproduce, but Mal was sure it could be done.

She imagined an army of guardsmen carrying rifle shaped staffs of light, red bolts of searing lightning covering the battlefield like a scourge of endless crimson.

Granted, the side effect of the weapon would have to be dealt with, but the image still brightened Mal's day.

As the Necron lord finally entered melee range, he swung his weapon, intending to bisect Mal with the blades attached to the staff's front.

Green lightning swirled around the exposed power generator, its glow afflicting the greyish-black blade of the staff with a touch of jade.

Since the Necron had stopped using the lightning attacks of his staff, Mal dispelled her barrier.

_"Well, at this point, I can basically confirm that this guy serves the C'tan. He seems to be mindless and stupid. Honestly, this swing does have some amount of technique put into it, but the way he's fighting suggests that he had the mental capacity of a two-year-old."_

It was one of the most primal and basic combat strategies to adapt and overcome the strengths of your opponents. This Necron Lord did not seem to possess that common sense. After all, he was engaging Mal in melee combat even after he saw that his last thrust was completely ineffective.

Moreover, the lord had no idea what Mal was capable of in melee combat, so the actions he carried out were extremly strange.

Well, at least, that was what it seemed like to Mal.

In truth, the Necron Lord had sensed the highest probability of his success, and acted accordingly.

His calculation mechanisms determined that ten blasts from his staff weren't as effective as a single thrust at close range.

If he closed the distance, then he could inflict more damage with less time.

His sensors picked up high amounts of Warp energy from his foe, but that was it. It was impressive for a psyker, but it had nothing to do with her body's structure.

In fact, the girl seemed to be something akin to a regular human, albeit with a few added organs. The material which her flesh was constituted of was much more resilient and powerful than any other of her kind, but was still able to be cut by his weapon.

The Necron Lord's scans could not recover extensive information, like the height of his target's power, nor could it tell him of her maximum physical ability.

Therefore, what served as a brain in the Necron's necrodermis body decided to act in the most beneficial way possible in his situation.

Needless to say, whatever intelligence or emotion the Lord once had was now replaced with the cold and calculative logic of an unfeeling machine. The star gods who had enslaved him demanded so, even if he would not respond to its plea to be let free.

That new wave of programming sent by the silent king was very disabling.

As the staff of light approached her face, Mal quickly extended forth a gloved hand, grabbing the staff at the middle of its hilt, the part which was not a not-so-hidden power generator.

The Necron lord attempted to wrench free his weapon with the strength of ten Astartes. Unfortunately, such a level of strength was nothing to Mal, who seemed to barely realize the power inputted into the Necron's pulls.

It was quite comical, really. The sight of a soulless, undying machine pulling with all his strength against a girl who was barely half his height.

Seeing that he would not be able to free his weapon like this, the Necron Lord reared back a punch before releasing it at Mal's face. With the intent to momentarily incapacitate its target, the strike created a powerful gust of wind generated by a metal fist which traveled faster than a speeding bullet.

Mal realized what the Lord was attempting to do. She found it quite amusing.

_"Hoh? So he wants to make me let go of his weapon by distracting me with a punch? Sorry, little robot, but don't you see this free hand I have right here?"_

Smiling with slight amusement, Mal idly grabbed the Necron's speeding fist with her free hand. The following collision sent a burst of kinetic energy which would have put grenade explosions to shame.

Slowly crushing the Lord's now trapped fist, Mal thought,

_"Come to think of it, why is this guy here? I know that he's the only Necron here who actually has a personal teleportation device. Still though, I would expect his soldiers to be marching here right now."_

Suddenly, thanks to Mal's greatly enhanced hearing, the marching of a hundred metal constructions could be heard from a distance away. It was like the slow shambling of a single organism, every step of every single warrior in perfect sync with the other.

Mal could picture all their ebony bodies moving in the same motion as each other, like they were the same code copy-pasted from a program.

_"Ah, here they come! Come to think of it, could this guy be attacking me because he thinks he can be resurrected even after he loses? Well, that doesn't really matter. Only a fool would let the enemy commander go in this situation."_

Shrugging in a seemingly careless manner, Mal decided to finish the fight.

Holding her attacker in place through her grip on his now crumbled fist, Mal suddenly ripped the Necron's prized staff away from him, detaching the arm holding the weapon as well.

The metal of the necrodermis arm transformed into a liquid-like state and began to move towards the now sparkling socket of the Necron Lord, forming something akin to a puddle on the ground.

Still clutching the broken fist of her aggressor, Mal began to think.

_"Hmm… as I recall, necrodermis is a material that retains its original shape even after being reduced to its component atoms. Therefore, unless I hit an important part of him, this guy won't go down."_

To Mal, this wasn't particularly troublesome, since there were at least a dozen ways she could come up with to deal with the likes of true immortals, making this little endeavor nothing to her.

Letting go of the Necron Lord, Mal kicked him in the chest, sending the undead lord through a multitude of sand dunes. The Necron rebounded several times on the ground before landing in a heap. Mal let go of the Lord's other arm when she did this.

The Necron's chest area was probably completely caved in because of this.

Slowly retracting her outstretched leg, Mal smiled.

_"Surprisingly crunchy."_

Leaping forward with a burst of kinetic energy, the girl became nothing but a blur as she sped after her adversary.

After two seconds, Mal arrived three feet before the severely damaged Necron, a hand deceptively shoved into her pant pocket, ready to inflict brutal damage at any given time. The other clutched her enemy's staff, still pulsing with green lightning.

The Necron Lord lay, spread-eagled on his back once more, in the center of a newly formed crater.

However, this time, one of his arm-sockets sparked with green energy as the other was twisted a whole ninety degrees and curved upwards.

Both of his legs were heavily damaged, snapped in directions unnatural for a human body. This was thanks to his collisions with the ground, of course.

The most defining feature on the lord's body was his chest area, which was a little more than just caved in.

It was as if a miniature meteorite had crashed on the center of the Necron's chest, the sheer kinetic force of the impact rendering the necrodermis to a near-melting temperature. The crater was so massive that it extended all the way to his shoulders, and so deep that it almost went through his backside.

Mal's eyes widened as she took a step back in shock, nervous sweat dripping from her brow.

_'Wha? I didn't intend to cause that much damage to him?! That was just a leisurely kick that I barely put 10% of my effort into! Oi?! What'll happen if I do that to a regular human?!"_

It would seem that she would have to hold back much more than she thought, even after realizing the need before.

There was really just nothing to be done about it.

Soon after getting over her shock, Mal smiled wryly.

"Hmm. So you don't seem to have a resurrection orb on you. Shame, I would have liked to study it a bit."

Considering that the Necron Lord did not use the green ball to restore his mangled body, it could only be assumed that he did not possess one in the first place. Mal could only expect so from a barely intelligent machine such as the Necron Lord.

Mal's eyes focused on the Necron once more after he rose from the crater he lied in, sparkling furiously from the green energy which seemed to be leaving his body at a rapid pace.

Standing shakily on mangled legs which threatened to buckle at any moment, the Necron Lord was able to stand with his heavily-damaged body.

Mal sighed.

She really wanted to simply get rid of this troublesome opponent right now before his soldiers arrived. However, she still had to make sure that he was serving the C'tan. The Necron Lord seemed to be barely sentient, a trait that immediately put him under heavy suspicion of C'tan control.

Even so, it could have been just because this certain lord preferred being quiet in battle or something like that. Therfore, Mal did not kill him, as he was possibly the vassal of a probable future ally. Someone like that couldn't simply be removed for no good reason.

Mal was visibly frustrated thanks to this, frowning unpleasantly. She was tapping her foot on the desert land, impatient thanks to the possible arrival of the Necron Warriors.

Even if she could easily sense the C'tan shard at the Necron's waist, she still could do nothing. After all, those shards were viable Necron weapons in combat. She couldn't make a judgment based on that.

The warriors were getting closer now, the sounds of their marching becoming even more audible to Mal.

_"Alright. I have to figure out a way to get this guy to spill the beans. Considering that he doesn't seem to talk much, it'll be hard. Asking him blatantly won't do anything, as he'll just keep trying to fight me. If those warriors keep getting closer, we might have to relocate again."_

However, the Necron Lord's next words brought a smile to her face, albeit a cold one.

In a raspy, yet metallic voice, the ancient ruler spoke with a sinister tone.

"Your… soul… will… become… sustenance… for... my... masters..."

The Necron Lord of Avarian V proceeded to reach into his cloak for the green and black cube stored there.

A clearly visible grin appeared on Mal's face as a tinge of bloodlust entered her eyes.

"That's all you had to say."

_"Finally!"_

Considering herself lucky, Mal quickly zipped towards the Necron, appearing behind him and snatching away the tesseract labyrinth before he could wrap his metal fingers around it.

The Necron lord suddenly detected a pressure being applied to its spine, gradually caving in the necrodermis for a millisecond before accelerating through his chest region in a burst of explosive force.

Before the Necron Lord even had time to react to the damage inflicted to him, Mal activated her powers.

"Die."

It was a word that would signal the end of the Necron's undead existence. A word uttered in a tone which suggested such a level of finality that it would have brought chills to any man's body.

However, the Necron Lord was devoid of the emotions required of such a reaction, and would approach the matter of his imminent death just like the calculative machine he was.

As white-hot flame burst from Mal's arm which was still inside of the Necron's chest, melting his necrodermis body to a grey puddle.

The Necron Lord did not even possess the decency to scream out in pain.

Standing over the liquified body of the former Necron Lord, Mal clutched the tesseract labyrinth with one hand, admiring its dark beauty. In her other hand, the staff of light sat, seemingly unperturbed by its master's demise.

The jet-black necrodermis construct was formed in the shape of a cube small enough to fit on one hand, along with several green sigils and markings which probably concealed or made up several complex technological devices which granted access to the inside of the labyrinth's inside.

The C'tan shard spoke in her mind in a manner close to the method of Tzeench. However, this presence was much weaker, less imposing.

It was only to be expected. It was only a fragment of a greater whole, split into thousands, if not millions of pieces. The shard's strength was nothing compared to the true power of the being it was supposed to be part of.

The C'tan shard boomed with a dry rasp, an ancient and starving voice, filled with unquenchable fury and agency.

_"Release me! Release me so that I can show this wretched galaxy the true meaning of death!"_

Calmly waving off the voice which could have easily driven weaker-minded individuals to insanity, Mal deadpanned,

"Saying that just makes me want to free you less, you know."

The trapped C'tan shard continued to order Mal to grant him release. When it realized that the course of action was ineffective, it began to weave intricate threats of her demise and the death of her loved ones.

Obviously, those words did not help its statement.

Besides, it wasn't like she actually knew how to access the tesseract labyrinth anyway.

Mal began to fly upwards, aware of the small army of Necron warriors, now a mere hundred meters from her location.

_"Hmm. So it's a shard of the Nightbringer, huh? Well, I can't be sure, but it doesn't really matter. I'll just store it in a safe location."_

Using her powers to distort the reality in front of her, a small fist-sized portal was formed, shining bright gold. It shimmered with psychic energy, a circular shape of constant ripples.

This gold contraption was a portal to the Warp which lead to a specific location deep in the location of the Emperor's afterlife. Mal had no idea what the other side actually looked like, only that it was free from Daemonic influence, and seemed to serve as an infinitely spacious pocket dimension where time was permanently stopped.

Mal had named this place the _Thesarum Auri_, her golden treasury.

The Emperor had taught her High Gothic, best to put it to use.

wasMal attempted to extend her hand into the portal, as to leave the Nightbringer shard there, she became shocked at the result.

There was a violent hissing emanating from the tesseract labyrinth, the device shaking as its inhabitant struggled against his prison. The noises which pulsed from the C'tan's prison was stronger than ever. However, the sounds seemed tortured, drawing many similarities to a snake being slowly branded by a hot iron rod.

This happened as soon as the black cube touched the rippling portal. That wasn't all, however.

A strange repulsive force seemed to forcibly separate the C'tan shard from the portal, like two same-sided magnets when they are too close.

As Mal's eyes widened, her arm was blown back by an almost explosive burst of energy from the meeting of C'tan and Warp, the sheer power of the repulsive force able to easily tear off the arm of a Space Marine. It was enough to fill Mal's limb with slight pain, something akin to the pained sensations of an unflexible person stretching their arm to an unusual level.

_'What is this reaction!"_

Mal's eyes narrowed, in interest this time.

_"Interesting… Very interesting indeed… So it would appear that the C'tan are not necessarily weak to the Warp just as the Warp is not necessarily weak to the C'tan. They are like the opposite ends of a magnet, baring repulsive properties towards each other. At least that's what the observations currently show."_

Mal sighed.

_"Well, this discovery has probably been made before, so I suppose I can't take much credit. Obviously, I'm not the first person to encounter a C'tan, nor am I the first to expose them to the Warp."_

After a few seconds, Mal stopped her thoughts. There was nothing to be gained by entertaining them right now.

Flying higher into the air, Mal dispelled her portal after shoving her newfound staff of light through it. The weapon should be able to maintain its function even after its time in the Warp, probably...

Clutching the Tesseract Labyrinth in her left hand, she looked at it with an annoyed expression.

A small tick mark appeared on her face as she attempted to bear with the annoyance.

"So, I have to hold you for the rest of my stay on this planet, as I can't put in my storage. Moreover, I have to listen to your insufferable whispers for all that time."

The shard continued to voice unintelligible threats from inside Mal's mind.

The girl sighed.

"Great, just great. I come to a nice little warring planet to kill some heretics and hostile aliens to build up my reputation, and I get stuck with a little whispering box that won't cease to vex me."

Mal brought a hand to cover her face.

"Do you know how embarrassing this will look to the people I'm trying to impress, huh?"

As the C'tan shard continued to spew more threats and orders, Mal sighed again.

_"Just what am I saying to a clearly deranged and completely insane creature?"_

Perhaps she simply wanted to vent her thoughts, or maybe she was just lonely. Either way, Mal didn't waste the energy to find out. It was best to just finish her current task as fast as she could.

Keeping this in mind, she flew in the direction of the approaching Necron forces, remaining outside their range by several dozens of meters.

She looked down on her enemies the same way a cruel god would look down on its worshippers, apathetic and uncaring.

Well, to be honest, who could possibly sympathize with mindless machines?

Closing her eyes in concentration, Mal channeled her Warp powers, her mind reaching into the innermost of the plane of souls, fully intent on manipulating its endless bounty.

With the power only bestowed upon the likes of an alpha psyker, the girl opened her eyes, now shining yellowish-gold.

Holding her arm upwards, as if ordering a line of musketeers to fire their rifles, Mal directed her gaze upon the Necron forces, unable to damage her with their limited range.

Reality itself distorted in the sky, turning it a golden orange. From the dry, summer air formed a dark yellow cloud, the thick, foggy construct spreading across the field of reddish-yellow like an infectious disease.

Soon, the sky, as far as the eye could see; was covered in those same golden clouds, churning angrily with ominous moods. It was like the heavens themselves were enraged, signaling the start of a storm on a level never before seen.

Loud roars of thunder could be heard from all around, akin to the sounds of majestic beasts, demanding fear and awe from all.

A few moments later, those same clouds now surged with an electric force, streaks of bright golden lightning zipping across their surfaces, using them as conduits for their murderous schemes. Furious sizzling could be heard all the way from the ground, the lightning uncaring for its great volume.

In the center of this heavenly scourge, stood Mal, her arm pointing upward. It was at this moment that her unusual commissar outfit truly fit her mannerisms.

Her fluttering cape, judgemental eyes, and heavenly form all served as impacts, the sight of a true goddess bring about the fury of the heavens.

It was truly a shame that her opponents were soulless Necrons, unable to comprehend the beauty and dread her powers inspired.

Faced with such a great opposition, akin to divine punishment from the Emperor himself, even the most stalwart and stoic of commissars and sergeants would be weak in the knees, rivers of tears flowing from their face just from the awe from it all.

Yes, it was truly a shame such a great technique was to be used on the likes of Necrons under a C'tan's control. However, this was also the crowd control method Mal could use with the most efficiency, so it couldn't be helped.

As Mal brought down her arm from its position, the lightning seemed to follow, obeying her commands like a pet obeying the will of its master.

In an instant, ten thousand bolts of holy lightning fell upon the earth like a great scourge. In an instant, the entire army of Necron warriors was completely annihilated.

At the end of heaven's great onslaught, not a single trace of the Necrons remained, every last soldier melted to a viscous puddle of grey. The sandy ground beneath them along with the dunes around them were all instantly transmuted into a transparent glass, transforming the landscape into an artistic masterpiece.

It was only to be expected. After all, Mal's Warp-produced electricity was many times hotter than the surface of a sun.

The golden cloud and lightning vanished in but a moment, dissipating now that their duty was complete. Mal's eyes returned to their dark amethyst hue, her cape ceasing its extravagant fluttering.

As Mal observed the new landscape she had created, she anticipated the boom of sound which would accompany the great barrage of lightning strikes, covering her ears and closing her eyes.

Soon, it was here, a wave of sound so deafening and piercing that it cracked the glass landscape Mal had created, giving off the appearance of a great cataclysm.

The ground itself shook as if imbued with righteous fury, newly cooled glass cracking and shattering in a single burst of crisp noise.

As the shaking stopped, Mal uncovered her ears, smiling in satisfaction.

While the beautiful landscape she had created earlier was gone, smooth and wonderous glass reduced to millions of crystalline pieces; leaving cracks and damaged patterns on the ground, she was still happy.

After all, her attack had much more impact than she originally thought. She was pleasantly surprised.

"_Wow. I have no words. I actually have no words."_

The Nightbringer shard was eerily quiet after the proceedings of Mal's slaughtering of the Necron forces. Whether he was fearful or calculating, no one knew. Mal herself did not care much either, preoccupied with the result of her actions.

A gleeful smile still on her face, Mal thought,

"_So, this is the power of the Warp, huh? When I used it back with Dad, it never had this much of an impact. I guess realspace has lower standards than what I've become used to. With something like this, it really won't be hard to convince people of my holiness."_

Mal had not imbued her lightning with anything. If she wanted to, she could have added warpfire to the mix, or willed the electricity to revitalize or punish its targets. She could probably imbue it with the power to brainwash.

The girl chuckled.

"_I've really become someone unreasonable, haven't I?"_

The Necron monolith was crushed. That was the best way to describe it.

No, that was the only way to describe it.

After all, that was exactly what happened. The proceedings were extremly simple. It did not take the mind of a brilliant scientist to understand them.

The great Necron structure, able to withstand the explosion of an atomic bomb, was easily crushed into a wad of worthless metal as if it was a sheet of paper.

That was exactly what Mal had reduced it to, staring at the now ruined Necron base with a smirk on her face.

One of her hands were extended forward, balled into a fist, while the other clutched a green and black cube close to her chest.

She was flying hundreds of meters from the ground, at a point where breathing would become laborious for any human being, two miles away from the Necron encampment. Her powers were completely unsealed, which meant that what she was now doing was child's play.

As the crushed wad of metal which was once the mobile Necron fortress floated in the air; suspended by strange golden energies, it suddenly began to spin with sudden desperation, as if eager to please some foreign entity.

The slow-moving Necrons did not even have time to react as the rotating metal wad grew in acceleration and temperature to such a point where it could start a forest fire.

It was then thrown to the ground with such great force that a great shockwave was formed, blowing back all the soulless machines in a ten-meter radius.

The wad then began to roll on the sandy land at high speeds, completely smashing the Necrons, adding them to its bulk as the golden energies controlling its movements added more strength to its acceleration.

Even the mighty gauss turrets and obelisks were not exempt to this brutalization, barely able to let loose single shot of gauss energy before having their bulk added to the growing metalloid wad.

It was not long before the entire Necron encampment was crushed and assimilated into the crude necrodermis orb.

Afterward, Mal teleported right next to the wad, patting the rough, jagged metal lovingly as if it was a pet.

_"Hmm… this necrodermis might be resistant towards psychic powers. It shouldn't have been that hard to destroy a single structure like that."_

Noting this newfound aspect of Necron technology, Mal walked past the many ruined structures, flattened by her crude creation.

Her gaze set upon the massive entrance to an underground complex which seemed to go underground.

It was a grand thing, a great necrodermis entrance, pulsing with the Necrons' signature viridian energy.

Apparently, the gate had risen out of the ground like the alien contraption it was, leading to the mysterious catacombs below.

As Mal approached the large entrance which dwarfed her by whole meters, she scrutinized it, squinting her eyes with a studying glance.

"It seems to be a small tomb complex. I'm not sure exactly how deep it goes, but the defenses stationed here are too weak."

She shrugged.

"Well, it doesn't matter, since I'll be destroying all of it. Let's put in a bit of extra power just to be sure. After all, I don't know how many of them are actually in there."

Without another word, Mal threw the tesseract labyrinth containing the Nightbringer shard into the air, holding it aloft with telekinesis. The whispers of the C'tan shard had grown so annoying that her mind had begun to block out his words.

Taking a deep breath through her enhanced, lungs, Mal prepared herself.

As she closed her eyes in focus, she reminisced of the times spent with her father.

_"It's been a while since I prayed."_

After those thoughts, Mal laid low the mental seal on her powers, revealing her true form in all its glory. The C'tan shard seemed to hiss in pain as the passive reality-distorting effects of her body reached him.

Her translucent wings seemed to shine with a newfound fervor, golden fog emanating from them in a shimmering mist.

Even though they were long enough to completely wrap around Mal's body two times over, the wings were naught but decoration, a mere representation of her strength.

Her eyes still closed, Mal stood at the center of the tomb's entrance, her hands held in front of her as if channeling a great power.

As her lips began to move, the already distorted reality around of her seemed to shift and warp even more. Soon, it was as if the area surrounding Mal had been transformed into another world.

As Mal opened her eyes, the joking girl from before vanished, replaced by the grim and stern existence of a true saint.

With every word spoken, reality's distortion became more intense, more intrusive. The landscape was now painted a brilliant gold as the Warp itself seemed to meld onto reality.

Even when her prayers were uttered as whispers, they rang and echoed across the whole desert, booming across the desert sands.

**"I am the Emperor's sword. I am the Emperor's justice. I am his holy judge, the deliverance of redemption."**

Mal's eyes and wings morphed to a dark yellow, the Warp rumbling and shaking around her.

**"I am the harbinger of death, the bringer of demise."**

Even as Mal continued to speak in a whisper-like tone, her words became amplified, as if broadcasted by a thousand vox-casters.

Golden fire now covered Mal's hands, encasing them in their brilliant shine. Her eyes shone the same way, replaced with burning orbs.

**"O HOLY RULER OF MANKIND, MASTER OF A MILLION WORLDS. I BESEECH THEE. GRANT ME THE POWER TO SMITE THINE ENEMIES."**

It was if the world snapped in half at that moment, visible cracks appearing on the distorted gold-shaded reality around Mal, a sound of breaking glass echoing all around.

The fire above Mal's hands rose up to ten times their height, shining a dark orange.

The color of those flames was reflected in Mal's eyes, which seemed to flare up just as much, orange fire protruding from her sockets.

The orange-gold flames seemed to take its fuel from reality itself, hungrily lapping up whatever scraps of reality they could find. Yet, even if the fire were ravenous, it still gave off a sense of nobility, a sense of justice. It was a fire of judgment, of cleansing.

Bursting into two cannon-ball sized jets lancing upwards for several meters, the fire was completely under Mal's control, protruding from her outstretched hands as if parts of her body.

With a wordless motion, Mal brought those hands together, combining the vicious flames under her control.

The fires from both hands danced about and combined with each other, forming a massive orb of holy flame.

For all its grandeur, the scale of the phenomenon was quite small, only taking up space the size of a large ball between Mal's hands, tossing and turning like a miniature sun.

However, that seemingly small amount of fire would serve its purpose well, for it was the fire of the Emperor himself, brought onto this plane of existence to eradicate all that would oppose him.

Mal channeled that orb of flame for a mere moment more before finally sending it on its way.

As her eyes flared up even more, the girl thrust forth the Emperor's flames, sending them forth in a torrent of magnificent beauty and power.

That seemingly small ball of fire elongated and expanded until it spread out in a cone the size of the entire tomb entrance before roaring past all the hidden corridors and mechanisms of the great underground structure.

The complex catacombs which stretched underground for tens if not hundreds of kilometers were completely flooded by the fire, every branching pathway filled with the holy substance.

The roar of raging flames boomed across the desert, joining the sounds of breezes and sandstorms as they devastated the Necrons's underground base.

Any and all Necron warriors resting in their designations were completely eradicated, their bodies becoming purified and incinerated by Mal's attack.

Ancient technology, sentient machines, immortal guardians, and priceless artifacts. All of these things rested in the tomb, waiting for the day to be discovered and reused.

Sadly, that day would never come, as all the necrodermis in the underground catacombs were completely destroyed without a trace.

Whether the metal sublimated into gas thanks to the otherworldly temperatures of the Emperor's flames, or was simply purged from existence for its unholiness, no one but the Master of Mankind himself knew.

However, one thing was for certain. All traces of Necron influence upon the underground catacombs were completely erased, leaving only sand and rock.

Mal, having begun to hide her power again, dusted off her commissar outfit before checking the area around her for dimensional distortions.

Thankfully, they seemed to have closed after her show of power ceased, proving that they weren't too damaging to the environment.

Nodding in satisfaction, Mal smiled.

_"No side effects. Good."_

However, when her gaze became focused on the massive entrance to the formerly Necron-occupied tomb, the girl's eyes widened, her jaw dropping to the floor.

The reason for this was simply because of the entirety of the underground entrance, which had turned a suspicious light golden color, radiating some sort of shining miasma, similar to the fog Mal secreted when her powers would be unsealed.

The inside of the catacombs seemed to be under the same effect, the color of the sand and rock having been all transformed into the same golden shade.

It truly gave off a mystical look, a massive entrance to a cave of gold, radiating mysterious energies. Unfortunately, there would be no secrets to demask and no treasures to uncover, but it still appeared to be a holy place.

However, Mal realized just what had happened to these "catacombs", if they could still be called that.

_"Nononononono, I definitely spoke too soon! What is this?! Oioioioi, what in the frakking Warp is this?!"_

If material from realspace were to be equated to a sponge, then what Mal had done was essentially the same as drenching the whole thing in a thick, viscous Warp sauce, the material becoming so bloated and filled with liquid that it seeped out of the soft container.

Even the corrupted Chaos lands on Avarian V could only be equated to a sponge slightly sprinkled with water.

For Mal, the golden mist trailing from the newly consecrated catacombs were naught but elaborate eye-candy.

However, any normal human being who approached the place would completely be intoxicated by aura and excrements of the golden rocks and sand.

Slight exposure would grant a man's ears the pleasure of hearing the voices of angels, whispering words of comfort and inspiration.

Medium exposure would grant a man visions of divine figures, offering visions of pleasant futures and victorious battles.

However, if any a man were to be granted too much exposure to the materials, which were so saturated with psychic energy that they might as well have been part of the Warp itself, their souls would probably be sent on a one-way trip to the Emperor's afterlife.

Seeing this, Mal could only bring a hand to her face before sending forth a psychic pulse to gauge the extent of the damage she had caused.

Two seconds of later, she let out a troubled groan, regretting her prior actions.

_"Ugh... It's really like that! The catacombs are completely saturated with Warp energy."_

This meant that the underground complex was to never be used again, especially not by psykers. They would definitely be driven insane.

Even if Mal were to attempt to remove the Warp presence from the many caverns and passageways, it was undeniable that some of the potent energy would still remain. The cleansing process itself would probably take several days, as it involved retracting the massive amount of power exerted and sending it back into the Warp.

Mal sighed.

_"Well, I guess Iĺl just leave it as it is."_

Groaning in annoyance and despair, Mal outwardly expressed her thoughts with a troubled tone.

"How am I going to explain this to Valerian?"

In truth, she had nothing to fear from the Custodes, as his mission was to support her in all her endeavors by any means possible. He would not directly object to her decisions and actions, as they were sanctioned by the Emperor himself.

However, Mal thought that the veteran warrior was sent to monitor her and to advise her in her decisions. Even if his powers were vastly inferior to hers, the demigod was still ten-thousand years old.

He would surely have a great amount of experience with such things.

Therefore, Mal was sure that her guardian would be disappointed and angry with her, judging her actions to be overkill and the cause of needless damage.

After thinking for a few more moments, Mal´s shoulders sagged, her face becoming a resigned one.

_"Well, might as well just bite the bullet right now. I´ll go get him."_

Deciding to confide in her guardian on how to deal with her little mishap, Mal snatched her tesseract labyrinth out of the air, paying no mind to the oddly quiet Nightbringer shard within.

Teleporting away in a flash of golden light, the girl left behind only destruction in her wake, the ruins of a former Necron outpost reduced to a gigantic immobile metal tumbleweed.

Valerian swung his polearm, the blue power field slicing through an Ork nob cleanly. Sprinting forward, the Custodian was a blur of motion, his prized spear swinging back and forth at supersonic speeds.

A large gathering of Orks stood before him, several hundred of the greenskins blocking his path, barrages and salvos of crude projectiles heading in his direction.

They were all deflected by the golden warrior´s weapon, its wielder skillful enough to cut apart several hundred bullets in the span of seconds.

A group of Astartes provided covering fire, which was completely redundant, and could have even proved to be detrimental. The Legiones Custodes were created to fight individually, after all.

The mutilated bodies of Orks were sent flying in all directions, the entire battlefield soon becoming a land of crimson.

Valerian was currently fighting one of the scattered Ork tribes left over by the death of their Warboss. He had just killed their leading nob, so their organization might have been nonexistent at this point.

It took ten minutes to slaughter all the greenskins in this section of the continent, and ten seconds to assess their losses.

There were none. No one died since Valerian spearheaded the battle.

The Space Marines were silently praising him already.

Naturally, the Custodian paid this no mind, already planning an assault on the next scattered clan. He was an immortal guardian of the Emperor; silent and vigil, not some knight in shining armor who basked in the praises and compliments offered to him.

As he stared in the direction of the next Ork encampment, several miles away, Valerian's eyes widened.

He could suddenly feel a sudden presence, golden radiance flooding all of his senses. Since he was created and gifted powers by the Emperor himself, the Custodian could easily detect a presence so close to his lord's.

Alerting the Blood Ravens' force commander and librarian, the golden warrior led a squadron of a hundred space marines to the Ork base where his mistress's presence appeared from.

It took only minutes to get there on landspeeders and rhinos, but in those minutes, the battle was already close to its conclusion.

Valerian and his allies arrived at a wrecked base of ruined Ork structures and dismembered corpses. None of the grass which had taken up so much of the land could be seen, as it was completely covered and smeared in a different shade of green and red.

At the arrival of the space marines, only a few dozen greenskins were left, feverishly shooting and slashing at an unknown entity, who appeared to be nothing but a gold blur.

None of the Orks' attacks found purchase, their atrocious aim possessing no capabilities to hit a figure who moved faster than sound itself.

As the Custodian dismounted from his land speeder to join the battle, the golden blur suddenly zipped through the mass of Orks; numbering in the thirties, and stopping behind them.

The figure of Mal was revealed, slowly returning her now deactivated powersword to her belt. The girl´s smiling face faced Valerian and the space marines, amethyst eyes reflecting kind emotions.

The Orks, realizing that their opponent had stopped moving, spun around to attack her.

However, as one greenskin raised his crude hatchet to strike the girl, he suddenly found himself frozen in place, unable to move.

Just when he was about to question this recent development, the Ork's head split neatly down the middle, all of his limbs falling to the ground, useless stumps spurting unclean blood.

The same fate befell the rest of his kin. Some of them were sliced into neat pieces like carved meat. Others had their heads severed, their fallen craniums splitting into many little squares before they could it the ground.

It was said that to kill an Ork, one must remove 40% of their body mass. Mal certainly did just that.

All the leftover greenskins in the base were reduced to neatly-sliced pieces, slabs of green meat falling to the earth like some sort of demented buffet.

The Orks themselves did not even realize that they were in pain until after their death. By then, their souls had already left their bodies.

The girl simply smiled at the carnage she caused, waving to Valerian innocently with a gloved hand.

"Valerian! You're late to the party!"

There seemed to be something hidden within her expression, something not necessarily malevolent, since it was so… light?

Snapping out of his awed state inspired by Mal's prowess, Valerian stepped through the great pile of Ork bodies, stopping a meter away from his mistress. The leaders of the Blood Ravens followed him.

Brother captain Nathanel looked upon his surroundings, wide-eyed. He was beyond words at the moment. Gadriel simply smiled at the Warp aura Mal secreted, becoming more fanatical by the second.

It was a primary teaching within his chapter to never worship the Emperor as a god. The Blood Ravens often looked down upon those who did, regarding them with disdain.

Gadriel had been among those who shared this view. But now, he was not so sure. Mal's psychic presence simply felt too divine, too pure. There was a tugging feeling in his heart, commanding him to kneel down upon the great leviathan before him. He did not obey this command, of course. Centuries of service as a Librarian had warded his mind upon psychic persuasion and influence.

Still, an indescribable feeling formed in his chest when he looked upon Mal's face. There was no living man in existence who would not think her divine when she smiled like that.

Both of his hearts began to beat much faster than normal, pumping blood to his body at incredible speeds. There was no doubt that captain Nathanel felt the same.

Valerian knelt before his mistress, a soft and venerating voice permeating from his vox-casters.

"My lady, you have returned."

Multiple emotions were put into those words. Despite her young age, the Custodian could not help himself from admiring his lord. Whether the emotion was caused by her sheer psychic might, combat prowess, or light and carefree personality, he did not know. It was probably a combination of all three.

She simply brought hope everywhere she went, her overwhelming strength coupled with her energetic and innocent nature allowing the people around her to temporarily forget that the world they live in is a grimdark hell where death is the greatest of mercies.

At the moment, Valerian felt that this was Mal's defining feature.

He was right, but oh so wrong. The truth was much more complex than that.

Mal's face took on a more serious expression as she began to give a briefing over her past actions.

The space marine leaders listened in silence with the Custodes. All other Astartes were ordered to stay a few meters away, so this meeting could be said to be private. Then again, with the enhanced hearing of a space marine, maybe it wasn't so.

"Indeed I have, Valerian, and the reason should be clear enough. The Dark Eldar have been slaughtered down to the last man, their prisoners freed and handed to the Imperial Guard. The Chaos Lord has been eliminated, his sorcerer escaping to the Warp. I have completely destroyed their base of operations, leaving none alive. Splinter groups are still left at large, but are without a leader and left with no access to Daemons."

Valerian felt his jaw drop, unable to invest any energy to bring it back up. The same was with the space marine leaders nearby.

Librarian Gadriel and commander Nathanel's faces were comical, eyes wide with slacked jaws.

They had no doubt that Mal would be able to secure victory on the planet. No, they fully expected her to do so.

However, they had assumed that she would need some sort of support from them, not just to eliminate the leftover Ork groups.

Valerian and the space marines assumed that Mal had gone to either perform acts of espionage or to gather information using some other method. Never in their wildest dreams would they imagine her actually removing several factions by herself.

Captain Nathanel was mystified, asking Mal the question everyone present wanted to.

'H-how?"

The girl answered nonchalantly, as if the answer was obvious.

"How? Well, I just teleported in front of them and started killing. It wasn't really necessary to set up an elaborate strategy for any faction other than the Necrons. Well, those guys acted before I could finish making a real plan, so I just took a risk and crushed them."

Following this lighthearted explanation, the jaws of the three superhumans present dropped once again. The space marines within hearing range doubted their ears.

Valerian was silent, processing a large pile of thoughts in his mind. Gadriel was flabbergasted, baffled at the completely nonstrategic way Mal approached combat. No doubt, Nathanel felt the same.

They had no idea whether to be impressed or censuring at Mal's actions, for they were the biggest mistakes a soldier could make, yet yielding unbelievably good results.

The captain recovered his voice, still greatly surprised.

"M-may I-I a-ask how such feats were accomplished? In detail?"

Mal tilted her head. She was somewhat in thought, giving a pondering answer.

"Hmm… I can't give a single answer to that, as I used multiple methods..."

The captain's eyes narrowed. His thoughts were synonymous ton those of Valerian and Gadriel.

"_I see. She incorporated methods fit to specifically incapacitate the xenos and heretical factions. It is of no surprise. I cannot believe that I actually thought the holy lady was foolish enough to mount poorly orchestrated assaults on entire enemy bases. I must censure myself after this."_

Nodding their heads in satisfaction with this self-made explanation, the superhuman warriors looked to Mal with apologetic expressions as if they had wronged her.

However, her next words removed those expressions from their faces, again replacing them with disbelief and awe.

"Let's see… Everyone except for the Necrons were weak, so I decided to experiment a bit."

Valerian did not know what to say. Neither did he know what to think anymore. What could "experimentation" possibly mean in this context?

Mal examined her hand, as if searching for chipped nails.

"Well, there were so many ways to kill them that it was ridiculous, so I simply used the best methods to test my martial prowess and experimental weapons."

Gadriel stuttered.

"S-such a thing!"

The librarian was a veteran of many wars. He had not served with any Primarchs, but he had seen enough war and destruction to last several lifetimes. However, not once has Gadriel heard something as insane as what was being said right now.

Even the Primarchs had a limit to their combat prowess, being not truly infallible. Yes, they were able to destroy whole armies and possibly devastate whole continents. However, they couped that power with logic and strategy, leading a large group of soldiers every time they went to war.

Even with the sheer power they possessed, the Primarchs still exercised caution in every battle, wary of the enemy even when they had the advantage. At least this was the image Gadriel had of them.

He just could not fathom the methods Mal employed for her to achieve victory. There was not a single wound upon her body, the commissar outfit remaining pristine and undamaged.

In that case, Mal's victories were surely not thanks to luck. No amount of fortune could preserve her that well.

Gadriel just did not know what to think anymore. The results of Mal's actions were just far too different than the ones he would expect.

Was she simply that powerful? Imbued with such might that strategy itself was not necessary for her? No, it couldn't be, right?

Mal continued to talk.

"I took out the Dark Eldar in hand to hand combat and used a psychic weapon on the Chaos forces."

She smiled bitterly.

"Unfortunately, that weapon cannot be replicated using mortal means. I am very disappointed thanks to that."

Valerian thought,

"_A weapon that could eradicate an entire Chaos base? Was it explosive? Likely, but I have the feeling that it is not the case. Somehow, I know that she would not make something as simple as a mere bomb."_

The listeners were too busy processing the information of Mal's newly developed weapon to think about her being able to take out an entire Dark Eldar encampment on her own.

Nathanel asked Mal his question with trepidation, not sure what manner of answer he would receive. The girl was simply too bizarre to expect anything proper out of.

"W-what kind of weapon have you devised, oh holy one?"

Mal sighed with more disappointment. She was truly unhappy about the uselessness of her laser cannon in Imperial warfare. It would have to serve as a personal weapon.

Even then, it would not be as destructive or powerful as some of her other abilities. The cannon would take extra effort to generate too, since it did not purely work off the power of the Warp.

She answered idly,

"It's not important. I can't mass-produce it, and no one other than me can use it to its full potential."

Mal sighed again. In an instant, she began to stare off into the distance, a blank look on her face.

Nathanel did not press further, as he was alerted by Mal's sudden mood change, not wanting to possibly anger his benefactor.

The others also remained silent, not wishing to disturb the girl's trance-like state. She was probably thinking of things beyond their comprehension.

Therefore, it stayed like this for a few more seconds, the superhuman warriors standing in concentrated silence, the rest of the space marines staying at a respectable distance.

Soon, however, Mal seemed to come back, her smile back on her face. She had grown cheerful again.

"Right! I almost forgot. I did something to the Necrons that might not be good for the environment… The damage could be irreparable."

Her smile was strained and fake, as if she expected some sort of punishment and was just upholding a facade.

Valerian found himself pondering just what kind of punishment she thought she would take. The space marine leaders, easily able to read her expressions, must have been thinking the same thing.

Suddenly, a rift in the Warp opened in front of the girl, its width and height surpassing that of Valerian's.

The portal was pure gold, viscous electrical energy flowing freely from the swirling vortex of opening in reality. It was a portal straight to the Warp.

Gadriel's breathing grew labored as the sheer psychic energy radiating from the holy structure invaded his senses. However, he composed himself soon after, not allowing the surprise to show on his face.

The others did the same. Even a non-psyker would be intoxicated just by being within the presence of such a great thing.

Mal simply smiled, as if the feat was nothing to note, gesturing to it with a hand.

"Come, I want to consult with the other leaders on what to do."

It was easily deducted that Mal wanted to enlist the attention of the leaders of the Imperial Guard and Adeptus Sororitas.

Valerian raised an eyebrow at this.

"My mistress, even if the damage is irreparable, is it truly necessary to inform so many others? I do not know what amount of damage your attacks have imputed, but it is in the desert. The location is not hospitable to most humans."

Mal just sighed, an exhausted expression on her face.

"You'll see…"

She walked through the portal, waiting for Valerian and the others to follow.

Gadriel and Nathanel shared a puzzled look before walking through the golden portal. They were confused, but did not want to disobey Mal. Especially not when a Custodes was right beside them.

Quickly shouting orders to his men to retreat back to their base, the captain nodded to his companions, signaling that preparations had been completed and that they could depart.

Valerian quickly strode into the portal without another word, followed by the two space marines who were preparing their minds for Warp travel.

It was time for them to see the true extents of the "damage" Mal had inflicted upon the land.

A few minutes later, Mal had gathered Governor-General Jonathan Lance and Cannoness Vylira Jessiael, informing them of her request.

While the earlier thought it strange that Mal had wanted him to accompany her to do a damage check of all things, it wasn't as if he could just refuse. Even when Mal wasn't radiating her golden aura, the heavily armed and threatening golden giant beside her was a more than sufficient reason for him to comply with her requests.

Mal knew from his expression that he thought it strange she would ask him to do something like inspecting damage, especially at a time of war, but he had no idea how extensive and permanent it was. She would have to show him.

For the Cannoness, there was nothing to be said. As soon as Mal had appeared in her base, the sister had knelt down immediately, all the Soritas around her immediately following her example.

The conversation between Mal and Vylira had gone like this:

"Um, I'm really sorry, but can I have a few minutes of your time? I promise this is for a good reas-."

A loud, almost booming voice interrupted Mal's sentence.

The girl could clearly see the zealous glint in Vylira's eye, flinching back for a second.

"My most esteemed lady! Say no more, as I will follow you to the ends of the galaxy, even into the Eye of Terror itself if you asked me to!"

Mal's face contorted in shock as she realized that the Cannoness's words rang true, not just for her, but for all her sisters. They all nodded in unison, as if consenting with their leader's words.

_"I-is this what they call a zealot? That light in her eyes is scary..."_

However, Mal's shocked expression immediately morphed into a smile, as she felt something warm in her heart.

_"But… it's not so bad. No, it's heartwarming, really. To think so many people would put their trust in Dad..."_

She nodded to herself.

"_I'll protect these guys with the best of my ability. They deserve no less. I don't care if the Sisters of Battle are indoctrinated at the moment of their birth. I can't consider such things when they're so dedicated."_

It was an indescribable feeling of happiness which graced Mal's heart. It was at this moment she found that the Adeptus Sororitas were to be one of her most favored Imperial factions. Despite their obsession with purging and cleanliness, the girl couldn't help herself from getting attached to them.

Maybe it was because the Emperor's sad nostalgic faces when he spoke about his sons and grandsons, and the sheer pain he had shown when describing their betrayal.

Considering the Emperor was the person to finally bring light into Mal's life, she found herself unable to bear it when he became sad.

These feelings influenced Mal's psyche, transforming her into a person who despises betrayal and loves loyalty.

The Sisters of Battle possessed an enormous amount of the latter. That fact could not be disputed.

Mal was touched by their loyalty, almost to the point of tears.

Therefore, she said to Vylira, with the brightest of smiles on her face,

"I really love you guys, you know that?"

Silence filled the room Mal resided in, as the Sisters took several seconds to comprehend her words.

However, seconds later, the armed forces of the Adeptus Sororitas, armed to the teeth in bolters, chainswords, meltas, and flamers, all began to cry in unison.

The battle-hardened veteran Vylira, who had served in numerous campaigns, experiencing years of brutal and relenting combat, was forced to hold back her sobs with a gloved hand as her mouth moved in a useless attempt to form coherent words.

Mal found her eyes widening in surprise.

"_W-what? Crying? Are those tears of joy? Does that mean that I'm affecting them with my aura? Itr can't be, right? I thought I toned it down to the point where it couldn't be noticed by non-psykers! Or… could it be that they're simply happy that I said that?"_

In the next second, Mal had taken the overjoyed Cannoness into her arms in a soft embrace, comforting her in a way a parent would use to calm down a crying child.

Things went extremely smoothly after that.

After several minutes of the Sisters' rapid-fire praying and vows, Mal took Vylira's hand and softly guided her into the golden portal which awaited her.

"_Alright, the easy part is done. Now… I actually have to tell them the bad news…"_

Mal grimaced.

"_Hopefully, Valerian takes it well." _

Valerian found himself extremely confused at the new duty his mistress forced upon him.

Was his presence truly necessary at a _damage control_ meeting? Such things could be left to the politicians after the leftover xenos and heretics had been exterminated.

His mistress was truly a confusing existence. She was able to easily end the reign of several powerful factions on the planet, not a scratch on her body.

She was a tool of war, a weapon of endless capabilities. Valerian had realized this now. Therefore, it was simply too puzzling why she had called a meeting like this.

The damage was extensive, the custodian had no doubt of that. If they were the actions of his mistress, then continent-wide destruction was to be expected. He was sure of that now.

However, even if the entire desert was covered with nuclear radiation, there was still no point in discussing it with him. The planetary governor of Avarian V had died during the invasion. Whoever was assigned next would surely not mind a single radioactive desert where human life was incapable of thriving in the first place, especially not while knowing that the damage was simply a side-effect of wiping the xenos and heretics off the planet.

Therefore, the custodian failed to see the logic his mistress employed to bring him to the desert.

Even so, he did not protest, as he noticed the nervous expression on his mistress's face. Years of service had taught him to recognize the meaning of such things. It was something any Custodes could do with absolute ease.

Still, he could not decipher the reason why his mistress wore that expression, the expression of guilt.

Just what did she have to be guilty of? Wiping the invaders off the map? Saving this world from the clutches of humanity's enemies? Valerian did not understand.

If a single dessert was ruined in the process, then so be it. For someone of his mistress's stature, it was hardly a reason to show that expression.

Silent, the giant continued to ponder over these things while he followed beside his mistress, striding across the desert with majestic steps. A psychic barrier had been erected around them for the occasional breeze, which would fling sand into mouths and eyes. The regular humans in his company would need it.

Mal had decided to portal her subordinates to a location close to the Necron base, but not too close to it. She said something about wishing to show them full extents of her actions, and something else about them not being able to handle it if they took it in all at once.

Not even the librarian could decipher these code-like words.

Therefore, no one truly knew what was going on except Mal, who simply lead them in a certain direction without a word.

The small journey was completed in silence, the travelers necessarily weary.

Soon, the silhouette of a giant metal sphere could be seen, surrounded by a plethora of destroyed metal structures, giving off the look of ancient ruins.

When Jonathan had seen the thing, he stopped in his tracks and cursed in surprise.

"Throne! What is that thing?!"

The combined glares of three super-human demigods and one genocidal flame-addicted zealot shut him up in an instant, inducing a nervous gulp.

Since Mal did not answer his questions, the general did not ask any other questions. He was probably waiting for more clarification, but by the looks of things, he would have to wait a bit more.

After another minute or two, the group finally arrived at the promised destination.

The sight of the supposed "ruins" was finally fully revealed, as well as the strange sphere.

Valerian's eyes widened in surprise as he glanced over the fallen stumps of structures which would have taken the combined power of hundreds of melta-grenades to destroy.

However, when his eyes drifted over the strange orb, they widened even further.

He knew that his mistress would end up surprising him further in the future, but such expectations did not serve to soften the shock as much as he wanted.

The remains of several hundred necrodermis structures were clustered around a single wad of metal, as if composed up of parchment sheets crumbled up into one wad by a frustrated scribe.

The other faction leaders were much more surprised than he, especially the ones who had not seen Mal's combat capabilities in person.

Jonathan Lance cursed again.

"Frakk me. Here I was, thinking I'd seen everything."

Vylira seemed to be praying vigorously again, for the seven-hundredth time today.

Nathanel rubbed his face, clearly in awe.

"Such power!"

Gadriel seemed to be in glee, smiling as if he was a young boy who recently popped his cherry.

Mal simply walked past the giant wad of metal without another word, leaving the humans to their own conclusions on what transpired in the Necron base.

Valerian was the first to redirect his attention from the giant metal object, following behind his mistress at his normal pace.

The rest of the leaders soon joined him, still in awe from the wonders they had witnessed.

It would be nothing compared to what they would see next.

As Mal stared down the mouth of the former Necron catacombs, she sighed in resignation.

"_The regular humans will probably start praying or something, but the space marines and Valerian will probably scold me."_

She let out a troubled whimper.

"_Uuu… I don't want to leave a bad impression as someone who only destroys her opponents! What if people think less of me, now that I've done something this extreme?"_

A few steps later, she reached it, standing only a few feet away from the entrance of the catacombs.

It was the same as when she left it, radiating golden energy in the form of viscous fog, excreting from the walls of the underground structure.

As Mal waved aside a small wisp of golden fog away from her face, she turned, looking to Valerian with a grimace on her face.

"Well, here it is… Be honest, how bad is it?"

Valerian's helmeted head did not even turn in her direction, instead staring into the wispy tunnels which made up the catacombs.

He was ominously silent, not speaking a single word.

The space marine librarian was speechless, his mouth moving feverishly in a fruitless attempt to form words.

His psychic senses were probably going crazy. Well, it wouldn't be too big of a problem. He was more than prepared to deal with such things.

Jonathan and Vylira seemed to have unconsciously kneeled down, the former was feverishly praying while the latter was… singing?

They seemed to be hymns.

Mal noted that the Sister's voice was beautiful, although that was simply personal preference.

Both of the humans had tears trailing from their eyes.

Mal had no idea what they were hearing or seeing, but simply decided to leave them alone.

The effects of the psychic catacombs brought no harm if it was exposed to them in small quantities, so there was nothing to worry about.

Nathanel also began to pray, although he kneeled down willingly. He also wasn't crying. It seemed that his senses weren't affected too much by the golden aura, and that he was simply praying at his own leisure.

Mal's gaze drifted back to Valerian, who was still uncomfortably silent, standing beside her, completely motionless.

She had no idea what he was thinking right now, and couldn't read the custodian's expressions either.

Mal wasn't about to read Valerian's mind either. He wouldn't mind, but she didn't want to invade his privacy.

Therefore, Mal gulped and simply stood in silence.

She did not want to get into trouble with the being who was to protect her with his life. A scolding was the last thing Mal wanted right now.

However, it would seem that she lived with her father for too long, and seemed to have forgotten the position she was currently in.

As Valerian's neck suddenly snapped to Mal, a small squeak came from her throat, frightened by whatever words would come out of the custodian's mouth.

However, when the golden giant began to radiate veneration and dedication, Mal froze in more ways than one.

"My lady, your power is truly magnificent. That, coupled with such clairvoyant planning, is greatly impressive. I must thank the Emperor for assigning me to such an insightful mistress."

As the space marines nodded in approval, Mal's mouth finally regained the power to move.

She weakly squeaked,

"What?"

Not many feats could impress the custodian named Valerian.

Repel a horde of rampaging daemons? Been there, done that.

Slay a thousand heretics with your bare hands? Good for you, have a cookie.

However, the feat his mistress had enacted managed to draw pride from his weary heart.

Simply infusing the cave with golden energy? No, that wasn't what impressed him.

He now understood why Mal had gathered all the faction leaders.

Gazing upon his mistress's guilt-ridden face, the custodian found himself almost laughing out loud.

It wouldn't do too much, but rumors would start, and that was enough.

Valerian had no idea why Mal had written off a part of her ingenious plan with guilt, but he was sure it lead to some other extremly complex plan.

Mal had just created a sure way to spread her influence across the Imperium, along with solid proof of her claims.

Feeling the aura of the golden catacombs, Valerian knew instantly that no man would be able to forget it. How could they, when even he, a Custodian, was not immune to its effects?

When any high-ranking official questioned Mal's authority, she could simply point them to this location, and all their claims would be rendered void.

Well, it would not be anywhere close to being that smooth. There would certainly be excuses claiming that it would take too much time to reach the golden catacombs or others in its likeness.

However, that was surely not Mal's only objective. Seeing that she had brought all the faction leaders here, it would seem that the girl was going to spread rumors of its existence through their forces.

Mal had not ordered any of them to take vows of silence. Nor did she seem to want the result of her actions to become anything less than acknowledged.

Rumors had power. Anyone with half a brain could see that. Soon, word of this location would spread, bring along pious pilgrims, who would feel the energies of the catacombs themselves, passing along even more rumors.

After a certain time, Mal's claims would certainly become indisputable.

A few seconds after observing the golden catacombs, Valerian came to a logical conclusion.

Everything Mal did on the planet was perfectly planned to the last detail. She defeated the enemy in the most grandiose and flashy ways possible without the use of strategy or tactics, or even an army. Speaking honestly, Mal basically saved Avarian V all by herself.

News of her overly-flashy actions would surely spread across the Imperium, painting her to be a magnificent saint of unquestionable authority.

In short, Valerian realized that everything Mal did on the planet was solely for the sake of her political campaign. And when thinking about it, everything she did would be able to boost her reputation. Of course, this included her little "mishap" with the Necrons, as the result presented undeniable proof of her divinity.

Smiling pleasantly in his helmet, Valerian's reverence towards his lady increased again.

The cleanup of Avarian V was completed in but a single day.

With Mal no longer occupied with taking out enemy faction leaders, destroying the leftover scraps of enemy troops took mere hours.

Since the Orks were confined to a single continent, Mal ordered the Blood Ravens to stand down, quickly finding and killing every single greenskin on the planet's surface. She could do nothing about the spores, but that fact was accepted a long time ago.

Once she was finished with the Orks, Mal went on to eliminate the leftover Chaos forces. Stranded in little outposts, they were instantly spotted by the girl's city-wide psychic echolocation and exterminated in short order.

The longest portion of the cleanup was where Mal decided to purify the whole continent of chaotic corruption.

Since filling the desecrated earth with her own power was much easier than extracting the psychic influence of the dark gods, the ground became pristine and goldish, strange sensations and majestic whispers felt and heard by whoever tread the soil.

Mal's newfound Tesseract Labyrinth was carefully hidden and kept out of sight. Mal did not inform Valerian of its existence until days later.

After formal farewells with each of humanity's faction leaders, Mal departed from the planet through the cruiser she came in, leaving the planet in the hands of man.

The former Necron catacombs "blessed" by Mal became a sacred site to the Emperor's devotees, a popular visiting location to many a pilgrim.

It is said that the faithful who entered the appropriately named _Consecrated_ _Path _would send whoever walked on it straight to the Emperor himself.

A similar fate beheld the former Chaos-infested continent, now that it had become a blessed land.

In the future, countless Terran nobles would battle each other in various ways to build their homes there, in an effort to become closer to the Emperor. The lesser of their ilk would even abandon their birth planets just so they could live out the rest of their days upon these lands.

Mal had no way at knowing at the time, but her time on Avarian V would slowly become a national legend, told in the houses of rich and poor all across the Imperium.

It was still a few thousand years too early for that though.

As Mal watched the green-and-blue planet of Avarian V become smaller and smaller, she let out a relieved sigh.

"My first job, huh? I hope I did ok."

The golden-armored giant standing beside her in their room let out a booming voice amplified by vox-technology.

"Your work was magnificent, my lady."

Mal only let half a grin accompass her face. She sensed more than one meaning in those words.

Mal turned her attention towards other matters, especially the one which was most important at the moment.

"Valerian, since my debut is complete, it's time to move on to the important things."

The giant asked gently,

"May I ask what those matters consist of?"

Mal smiled in anticipation. Her mission was an important one indeed. In fact, it was so important, that multiple chapters of Astartes had been attempting to complete it for ten thousand years.

"You'll see."

Mal smirked.

"Now, Do you know anyone who can point me in the direction of _The Rock_?"

**I wanted to upload this a week ago, but I got sick with a fever. After that, I discovered Tales of Wind, so I just let myself go for a few days.**

**Apologies**

**Remember, constructive criticism is always appreciated. **

**Btw, do you guys want me to make a little thing at the start of my chapters that respond to your comments? I've seen other people do that.**

**I've run into another issue. For some reason, the fanfic website automatically removes all the POV changes I try to make, so everything is just smushed together into one large chapter.**

**I'll try to fix it, but IDK if I can.**


	11. The Rock

**Alright, for POV changing, I'll try using this: **IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII  
**Also, completely ignore that part of the Eldar aftermath I wrote about a few chapters back. I'll be removing that section if I have time.**

**BTW, I couldn't find much on the **_**Rock**_**'s interior, so I left specific things vague on purpose, such as the light sources and the specifics of Luther's cell. They don't matter too much though.**

**Moreover, I'll try to make a little thing at the start of my chapters that respond to any insight/questions/criticism you guys post in the reviews, so look forward to it. I'll only do this on each chapter for reviews for the chapter before it though.**

It took a whole week for Mal to reach Terra even with the aid of her Warp-bending powers.

She did not possess enough fine-tuning over her abilities to completely designate the time when the ship would arrive at its location. It would probably take thousands of years for her to do so successfully.

However, it was close enough for Mal, and a miracle for the cruiser's crew.

Soon, the girl had reached the home of humanity, wasting no time and immediately teleporting into the Imperial Palace.

Of course, she took Valerian with her, if only to appease his need to be protecting her at all times.

She admired the brilliant architecture of the Palace, but not nearly as much as any other person. After all, the Emperor had imprinted information of the structure directly into her brain.

She quite literally had a whole map of the place encoded in her very genes.

Therefore, it didn't take very long to find Trajann Valoris. However, convincing him to give her another ship, a fast one at that, took much longer. Eventually, the ancient veteran conceded with her requests, even though Mal did not specify exactly what she wanted to use the spacecraft for.

The custodian had heard the words of the Emperor himself, the same words which granted Mal absolute authority in her demands. To go against her request was to go against the word of his master. Still, Trajann seemed hesitant in his decision.

In the end, Mal's demands were met, the girl swiftly leaving Terra in a small cruiser named the _Swiftwind_. Of course, that "small cruiser" was capable of Warp travel and stretched out for several kilometers.

After Mal revealed a small portion of her power to the crew, a whole hour of devoted praying and crying followed, much to her protest.

When the annoying ceremonies finally ended, the journey began.

Valerian had informed Mal that _The Rock _was currently located near the ruins of Cadia, where it would stay unmoving for several more years.

They were apparently seeking new recruits at one of the planets in the system.

After she learned of the Dark Angels' location, she wasted no time in directing her new ship in its direction. After the crew was paid a hefty sum, they were sent on their way. Of course, these men and women had no idea why they were going to the system, nor did they have any idea why Mal would want to do so.

Even so, a job was a job. Not only did they have the opportunity to meet with a holy saint, but also received monetary payment for their endeavors. Therefore, there were no one in the crew who complained.

In the duration of several months, Mal had safely deposited the cruiser in the Cadian System. Apparently, the ship still had the resources to make the journey five times over, as they had expected a much more extended trip.

Paying this no mind, the girl simply stared at the destroyed ruins of Cadia Prime, directing her attention towards the shattered remains of the former world.

Mal's eyes were wide, her mouth was opened in awe.

"_I see. So these are the remains of Cadia. I wonder just how much courage it takes to keep defending your world to the point where it's destroyed."_

Mal smiled.

"_It's true what they say. Cadia broke before the Cadians did."_

To her displeasure, news of the objective was delivered at a time where it completely interrupted her thoughts.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Valierian walked towards his mistress, presenting his message at a meter's distance. She had changed her clothing, preferring to wear a simple cloth dress instead of her mastercrafted commissar uniform.

The clothing was relatively cheap, but Mal's near-unnatural beauty would make dirt-stained rags appear elegant when worn on her body.

"My lady, _The Rock _is now in sight. What is the next step of your plan?"

Turning her gaze from the mass of rocks floating in space, Mal seemed to nod in understanding.

"Good. Everything is going according to calculations. We were fortunate to not meet any opposition on this trip."

She grinned in satisfaction. However, it was a grim expression, devoid of energy and humor.

"Good, now it's time for me to truly play my part."

Valerian furrowed his brows. His mistress was unusually serious. Where was that cheerful girl who seemed to be without a care in the world? Now, Mal seemed completely and utterly stern.

What would she do that could be so important for her to make that face? What feat could possibly require so much attention from the savior of Avarian V?

Mal began to walk toward the front of the ship. She wanted to take a good look at the Dark Angles' main headquarters.

Thinking wordlessly, Valerian followed.

It took quite a long while for them to move to the front of the cruiser at walking speed. However, during most of this time, no words were exchanged.

Valerian knew that his mistress would entertain just about any questions he had. However, the custodian couldn't bring himself to disrupt the serious expression on her silken face.

No doubt, Mal was deep in thought. He had no idea just what those thoughts entailed, but knowing his mistress, it was probably a complex plan for galactic domination, or a political scheme to win the support of the Inquisition.

Walking down the gothic corridors of the small cruiser, the mistress gazed at the stone pillars and the skull decorations. A small smile seemed to grace her lips as she took in the architecture.

Valerian observed Mal's every move, attempting to better grasp his mistress's personality. Of course, this proved to be nigh impossible, as she was an extremely mysterious existence, consisting of principles he had never even considered.

Moreover, her form seemed to reflect a girl who was not exposed to the darkness of war and hardship.

She was an innocent existence, kind and patient towards everyone, even those who crossed her. Valerian was a fine example of this. This made her truly seem like a saint, someone to be protected with his life.

However, Mal could also be contradictory. Nothing about her made sense, as her personality seemed to be the opposite of itself.

Yes, Mal was a kind person, forgiving of mistakes and failure. However, this did not mean she was a compassionate saint. No, she was far from such a thing.

In fact, the most contradictory part of her nature was thanks to this very compassion. After all, Mal was a kind person who valued lives heavily, sparing even her enemies. From what he saw so far, Valerian was able to deduce this much.

So, how was it possible for such a contradiction to be present? How come that merciless glint resided within Mal's amethyst eyes? How did the complete and utter disregard for any and all lives which reflected from the eyes of cold-blooded killers shine from the same eyes whose owner was capable of such compassion?

Yes, Valerian saw it. He was not blind. He saw that exact glint within Mal's eyes as the guardsmen back on Avarian V surrounded her, lasguns ready to fire.

He knew instantly that his mistress was prepared to kill them at a moment's notice. That red hint of bloodlust had entered her eyes, if only for a brief millisecond. From that moment forth, Valerian understood that Mal would be able to personally dismember each and every single of the humans without the least hint of regret afterward.

This came from the same mistress who was almost moved to tears by the loyalty of the Sisters of Battle, the same mistress who laughed off an attempt to take her life, treating her would-be murderer as a trusted advisor.

Aboard their last cruiser, Mal had told Valerian that she wished for all humans to live well, without the threat of xenos and daemons on the horizon. She had told him with eyes filled with compassion that she did not want to take the lives of any sentient being who did not have to be killed, that it would leave a bad taste in her mouth.

Those words were no lie, Valerian could attest to that. He had several millenniums' worth of experience on detecting traces of lying, and he could sense no dishonesty in his mistress.

Therefore, who was Mal? A cold-blooded murderer or a kind, loving saint? Which one was she? Which personality was real and which one was fake?

Valerian had heard of a disease in which the victim's personality was split in twain. However, it was certain that Mal did not have such a disorder. She was made personally by the Emperor. Such an organism could not develop any such diseases. To even think so would be heresy.

Moreover, unlike people who had split personalities, Mal did not sew discord with herself. In fact, every action she took was most certainly approved by her entire mind. Every life she saved and every death she brought was decided by the same personality which made up the entity known as Mal.

Valerian was sure of this in his heart and would accept nothing else. After all, the amount of emotional turmoil he sensed from Mal was minimal.

So, this begged the question.

What is Mal? Or rather, just how could she be this way? How could someone like her exist, so determined yet hypocritical at the same time?

As Valerian asked himself these questions, Mal finally started a conversation. It might have been just Valerin's imagination and paranoia, but it seemed if his mistress's smile revealed her knowledge of his thoughts.

"Valerian, do you think he'll like me?"

She asked with such uncertainty that it was hard for the custodian to answer.

"I am unsure of who you mean, my lady."

Mal sighed.

"He's the person I've come all this way to meet. Someone very important to the Dark Angels."

Valerian nodded in understanding.

"I see."

The golden giant took another step forward.

"I am sure Chapter Master Azrael will be honored by your presence."

To this, Mal's eyes widened before she simply chuckled in amusement, causing Valerian to frown in confusion.

"Not him, dummy. Although I would like to meet Azrael too, I've come to meet someone of more importance to the Dark Angels. Try heightening your standards a little, Valerian. Then you'll see who I'm talking about."

Continuing to frown, the custodian began to think once more, acceding to Mal's advice.

There could only be one person more important to the Dark Angels than their Chapter Master, and that person was...

Suddenly, Valerian's eyes widened in shock beneath his helm, his voice becoming slightly lighter with shock.

"M-my lady, could you possibly mean… The Lion?"

No, it couldn't be. The custodian chastised himself for such an outrageous guess. He had let his imagination get the best of him.

Valerian resisted the urge to hit his face with a palm. Surely, he needed much more training. Letting loose such an outrageous question was far too unprofessional.

However, such thoughts became naught after Mal's curt nod.

Valerian began to protest. His mind was frantically trying to piece together this new information. The custodian almost stuttered as he asked unintelligent questions, as his brain was still preoccupied with processing the information Mal imparted to him.

"My lady! If you are seeking to reclaim The Lion, why are you here? Was the Primarch not lost in the Warp?"

Mal chuckled again.

"Oh yeah, you don't know. I'm not surprised. Not even Azrael is aware of his chapter's most well-kept secret after all."

Valerian's brows became even more furrowed as he attempted to think, only to widen his eyes in shock once more.

A Custodian's mind was made to process information thousands, if not millions of times faster than a normal human's. Even so, running thousands of scenarios in his brain at once, Valerian was still unable to come to a conclusion. The Dark Angels were a highly mysterious chapter of Space Marines, their valor in battle only matched by their almost-suspicious amount of secrecy. There just wasn't enough information to use.

According to high-clearance Imperial records, Lion El'Jonson's location was a mystery after his bombing of Caliban, followed by the Warp storm which devastated the planet soon after.

It was speculated that he was either deceased or was sent into the Warp, carrying out the will of his father in the horrible depths of the Immaterium.

Mal grinned.

"I'm probably the only living person in the galaxy who knows this right now, besides my father, of course, but I don't mind sharing with you."

Valerian looked to his mistress with serious eyes, awaiting her explanation.

Mal chuckled, but there was no mirth in her eyes. It was as if she found this funny, but in some sort of deranged and ironic way.

"Apparently, the xeno species dubbed, _The Watchers in the Dark_, carried his injured body deep beneath the confines of _The Rock_. Lion El'Jonson is resting there, fully healed. He's just waiting in a little room, ready to be brought out of his coma during a time he will be needed again."

Mal's mirthless grin grew wider.

"None of the Dark Angels know about this, not even Azrael."

The girl brought a hand up to cover her face.

"Honestly, I would laugh at this situation if I didn't feel so sorry for them, and every other person in the Imperium."

Shaking her head, Mal regained her curt smile. She extended her arms to her sides, facing Valerian.

"Well, that's why I'm here, to bring sleeping beauty back from dreamland, preferably not with a kiss on the lips. I'm not that into incest."

Mal proceeded to shove her hands in her pockets while chuckling at her own joke, a joke that no one but the Emperor would understand.

Meanwhile, Valerian was shell-shocked.

The guardian was close to panicking now, his mind working feverishly to somehow accept this newfound information. It was unbelievable. However, it was all he could surmise from Mal's words. This was the only logical conclusion.

Still, it was too unbelievable still. After all, how could the Lion be inside _The Rock_, the most secure base of the Dark Angels?

The long lost Primarch was under the feet of his very sons this whole time? What sort of twisted irony was this?

Such a bizarre scenario couldn't be possible, right? If it was true, then the situation would be the worst scandal in ten thousand years.

How long must he have slept? 10 thousand years? 20 thousand? Just the idea of it was inconceivable. How many Dark Angels had died in the field of battle, hoping to meet their gene-father in the afterlife? How many of them were in the Warp right now? Trying to find him?

If this information was true, then ten thousand years of heroic sacrifices and acts of faith would be instantly rendered void.

Valerian quickly came to terms with the information and sighed inwardly. It was not his place to judge the will of the Emperor. He would not doubt the words of his mistress.

Valerian had met with Grandmaster Azrael once before. The Dark Angel was a serious man, surprisingly kind, but not naive. He had weathered storms of evil and corruption; sometimes literally, and emerged unharmed. Just what kind of expression would that stern face make if he were to learn the truth?

Even with his incredible mind, Valerian could not predict the Chapter Master's reaction to this information.

Mal chuckled lightly.

"Strange, right? Not many would expect something like this."

"But how?!"

Valerian's already-breaking mask of calm could not be maintained any more after the reveal of this information. He had never possessed the same stern indifference and acceptance of newfound information like his brothers. Of course, this was thanks to his surprising amount of inexperience for a warrior who has lived for ten thousand years.

The girl continued speaking, completely ignoring the custodian's behavior, which would have earned him a stern scolding from his superiors. She either didn't know of this flaw in Valerian, or she just did not care.

"You see, Valerian, the Lion traveled back to Caliban after the Horus Heresy, grief-filled and guilt-ridden, for he did not arrive on time to prevent the Emperor's fate."

The custodian nodded. This much he knew. It was well within Imperial record.

"However, as he arrived above the orbit of his beloved planet, he was suddenly struck by another act of betrayal, as if the Heresy wasn't enough."

A patronising humor could be seen in Mal's eyes, as if mocking the world for being so cruel.

"The planetary defenses of Caliban fired on the Lion, surprising him and killing many Dark Angels in his charge. Seeing this, he judged the planet to be Chaos-infested, ordering a series of orbital bombardments with the intention to rid the world of Warp taint."

A spiteful chuckle came from Mal as her gaze narrowed.

Valerian could only stand in grim silence at this, his faced frozen into a single expression. He was used to it at this point, this kind of betrayal. In the Imperium, it was honestly not that rare anymore. The only surprising part was the fact that he didn't know of this beforehand, and even that wasn't so shocking if you put two and two together and analysed the Dark Angels' high amount of secrecy.

Mal chuckled once more before she continued on with the story, a cruel sneer decorating her lips; creating an expression not fit for someone so fair.

"But you know, that's not all, Valerian. That's not all. Do you know what the icing on the cake is? The cherry on top? The _frakking _home run?"

A snort escaped her lips.

"It was his second-in-command who betrayed him, the man who he saw as a father and friend. In the end, it was _Luther _who forsook the Lion, leading the whole of Caliban to eternal damnation."

Mal drew another breath.

"At the end, a Chaos-boosted Luther fought with the Lion and lost, but not before wounding him with a cursed blow."

She shrugged.

"Well, it didn't really matter, as the Chaos gods got pissed off at his loss and threw a hissy fit, completely destroying the planet with their Warp storm."

Valerian found himself sympathizing with the Lion. Having your trusted brother betray you, only to find out that another one had done the same soon afterword. Such a thing was not pleasant to experience.

Even so, he was not surprised, nor was he particularly outraged. Yes, these actions described were horrid and vile, speaking no better of the perpetrators.

However, the same tale had been sung so many times during the Imperium's history that one more was honestly not that big a deal anymore.

Horus, Konrad Kurze, Alpharius, Omegon, Lorgar Auralien, Fulgrim, Mortarion, Angron, and so forth. If these gods among men could be persuaded to follow the whims of Chaos, so could a mortal man like Luther.

Seeing that Valerian was taking this information relatively well, Mal continued.

"After that, The Watchers in the Dark just dragged Lion's body away, somehow healed his wounds to the point where he was fully healed, and just kept him in a room ever since."

She took another deep breath as she composed herself.

As Valerian processed this information, he could only ask one question. Something about the expression on Mal's face just did not seem right.

"Why are you so rattled at this, my lady? You were not present during the battle, nor have you met the Lion."

Simply, it was highly illogical for Mal to be so emotional about this. After all, she had never even met the Primarch. To her, it must have just been a story, something akin to a mission briefing from the Emperor.

Except, it wasn't. Such thoughts were immediately proven false by Mal's next words.

She chuckled, more bitter and sinister than ever before.

"Oh no, you're confusing these emotions for spite and anger for Lion El'Jonson and the Dark Angels. I assure you, they are not. As you're probably thinking, these kinds of things have been happening for dozens of millennia, this one is just a little special. I've never met my brother, so I don't feel sorry for him yet."

Suddenly, those purple eyes were staring into Valerian's visors. Mal was literally staring into his soul.

It might have been his imagination, but a black flame of rage seemed to be burning in them, accompanied by a glimmer of red.

It was then he noticed that he never truly discovered Mal's emotional state during this conversation.

Valerian thought that Mal was bitter and angry, raging over what had happened to the Lion and the Dark Angels. However, as he stared into those eyes, it was all proven wrong.

No, there was definitely anger in there, paired with pity. However, Mal's eyes were akin to a scorching inferno threatening to devour everything. Valerian decided instantly that her anger and sorrow was not directed at the Dark Angels or their traitor brothers.

After all, the anger in those eyes was personal, meant for a hated foe, someone she hated so much that death would be considered a mercy to them.

Therefore, it was not for the Dark Angels. Valerian knew Mal for long enough that she would not get so emotional over them. Not even a Space Marine chapter. A week ago, she had talked about their deaths like they were worth nothing, with an expression of pure calm.

There was no way she would get this angry over them.

Mal continued, the venom in her eyes becoming more concentrated by the second. It seemed to spill out of her like a lake, spite so concentrated, so crystallized that it seemed as if black sludge was leaking from her every pore.

"Do you know who told me about this in the first place? Do you know how much pain it caused Him? Can you even possibly imagine the agony he went through in those moments? Can you?!"

Valerian gulped as he looked into the twin abysses below him, feeling his very soul being pulled into that dark abyss. Mal was grinning in barely-restrained anger, the opening of her mouth resembling a pathway to the void.

In those moments, even the trained custodian began to shed cold sweat as he struggled to push back the butterflies overflowing in his stomach. An unstoppable amount of dread filled Valerian's being as he stared into the void. It was all he could do to stop himself from shaking, and even that was difficult.

_"What is this aura?! Such concentrated spite, I feel as if I am drowning in it!"_

Mal continued to speak, however, her words were now distorted, assaulting Valerian's senses from every direction, deafening even to his ears. Her voice was mocking and harsh, like the sensation of flesh rubbed on a cheese grater.

"The people in this _little_ empire just seem to love betraying each other, don't they?! After all, if someone like Dad, someone who lifted humanity out of the ground when it was already six feet under, someone who gave them ownership over the very stars, someone who is a literal beacon of hope in this unforgiving universe!"

The very earth seemed to shake under Mal's fury as her voice became even louder.

"If humanity had found it within those wretched little hearts of theirs to actually betray someone as kind as Him, then just what the hell are they?! Who the hell do they think they are, dragging someone as radiant as him down into their disgusting puddles of filth?!"

Suddenly, the suffocating pressure and wretched miasma that seemed to permeate from Mal disappeared. It was instantaneous, as if that strange pressure never seemed to exist at all.

She looked to the metal floor, face completely obscured by the rim of her cap. It was if Mal couldn't find the strength to speak anymore, as if something in her had just suddenly broken.

The girl, now eerily silent, addressed Valerian with a soft and vulnerable tone, as if she was coping with some sort of unbearable pain.

The custodian had no idea how to react to this, and could only stand in shock, relieved at the disappearance of that drowning aura.

However, he could not find the words to refute Mal's claims. It was because of the simple fact that he couldn't. After all, if humanity had been truly loyal and thankful for the gifts He bestowed upon them, then the Horus Heresy would have never transpired. He knew this. Everyone knew this.

Even so, Valerian would still fight for humanity, even if they betrayed his master. After all, he was one of the few custodians to see hope in the vastly inferior masses. He saw their potential, and would defend them with his life if he had no other choice. Still, even if Valerian favored humanity to that degree, he still could not bring himself to disprove Mal. After all, if her words were truly false, then chaos cults would not exist, rebellions would not exist. The entirety of the Traitor Legions would not exist.

Therefore, Valerian did not speak. He would listen to everything Mal said. Not only because of the fact that he agreed with her on some parts, but also so that she could relieve herself of this seemingly pent up stress. It wasn't just humanity, there seemed to be something else troubling Mal, something that seemed to cause her pain.

_"How long has she been hiding this? How long has this anger, this sorrow, been concealed within that tightly maintained smile of hers?"_

Mal hid it well, but with this outburst, the truth was revealed. Valerian was not a therapist, but he knew that Mal needed to finish talking with just one look at her. Those smiles he saw aboard his ship, those times he had seen her joyful face, eagerly moving on to her next objective. This ugly darkness was hidden deep in those expressions all along, demanding to be released. This conversation seemed to be Mal's breaking point, the time where she snapped and came clean with everything.

"He suffers, you know."

Mal's head remained lowered, but Valerian didn't pay that any mind. He continued his silence, giving Mal all the time she needed to let out her emotions.

"Every time He thinks of his sons, _that_ expression would come. That face, that face which reeks of the stench of apology and regret. I know that when He thinks of them, He always wonders how it could have been, how things could have been better if He formed a different relationship with them."

Mal sighed.

"The Emperor never thought that Horus would be the one to defect. Even with such great powers of foresight, He simply laughed off that possibility. That was the reason for His downfall."

A hollow chuckle escaped Mal's lips.

"I once asked Dad whether He hated Horus for what he did. I asked Him whether He hated any of His sons because of what they did."

Valerian tensed in further anticipation.

"Do you know what He said, Valerian? These were his exact words, 'The ruin of my empire is a responsibility shared by me and my sons. However, my part in its downfall was much more intensive than theirs. Ultimately, it was my fault.'"

She covered her face with a hand.

"I can't deny His part in it, but Dad blames Himself far too much than He deserves to. Every day, the Emperor woefully ponders over what he could have done differently, what he could have changed, if he could have prevented his sons from betraying him."

Mal tilted her head up to face Valerian. It seemed as if tears of grief would drip from those amethyst orbs any moment now, an unbelievable contrast to the dark pits of spite previously shown.

"He was the one who was betrayed. He was the one who was hurt the most. And it is He who is suffering the most after the whole ordeal. Even so, Dad is willing to admit his faults and reflect upon the past. All while those _brothers_ of mine are still throwing their silly little temper tantrums in the Warp, announcing their so-called pain to the rest of the galaxy like spoiled brats flaunting a large allowance. They have learned nothing, letting their pain and bitterness consume them. Now, they are beyond redemption, while He still mourns their loss."

A wistful smile graved Mal's lips as her eyes seemed to brim with pain.

"Just thinking of them hurts Him. When he is reminded of his sons, Dad always puts on that expression, like He's reminiscing of what could have been. I don't even have to be a psyker to know that the emotional pain he feels from his own mistakes tears him apart from the inside."

Mal's voice became quiet, to the point where it would barely be heard by human ears. Her words came out in distorted murmurs, as if she didn't want to speak anymore.

"I don't want Him to feel this pain, this overwhelming amount of mental agony. The damnation of His sons pains Him more than we will ever know, and the fate of His empire burdens Him to no ends."

A single tear fell to the floor, shocking Valierian.

"I would rather die a thousand deaths than to let Dad keep feeling this pain. I would scour a hundred thousand worlds clean to ease his burden, if just a little. However, that wouldn't work. No, the only way I could possibly help my father in any way would be to follow his orders and fix this blasted Imperium to the best of my ability, a process that will take much longer than a few millennia."

Another hollow chuckle resounded within the cruiser as the words of a grief-torn girl echoed across its hall.

"I could tear a man's soul from his body, drown whole worlds in holy fire, and inspire courage and valor into the hearts of millions. Yet, for all that power, I can't repair my own father's broken heart. Pathetic, isn't it. Go on, laugh if you want."

A pained grimace sat upon Mal's face, as if she expected Valerian to do just that.

However, no laughing could be heard, only silence as the custodian composed himself.

As Mal laid her heart bare for all to see, Valerian was not disillusioned, nor was he judgemental of his mistress. No, instead, the guardian was moved and humbled by her words.

After all, Mal spoke of things a custodian would never even think of. Their kind consisted of guardians, bodyguards ready to throw their lives away for the Emperor's wellbeing. However, what exactly did that mean? The ten thousand acted as their sire's personal shields, protecting Him against any and all enemies who would threaten His safety.

However, that only applied for physical enemies. They did nothing for the ailments of His heart. How could they, as the Emperor often acted like an uncaring machine, seeming bearing no signs of insecurity or mental pain. They thought that the Emperor's human side did not even exist, that the robotic side of him was all there was.

That notion was proven false by the entity known as Mal.

Valerian now knew that this was not the case, that there was a kind part of the Emperor which cared for his subjects. After all, Mal's words were definitely not lies. It would seem as if his sire did possess human attributes after all.

The custodian looked to the skies, letting out a ragged sigh, reminiscent of the horrors of the past ten thousand years.

_"It would seem our failures were more extensive than previously imagined, Captain-General. If there was truly a hidden side to the Emperor, a side that we failed to consul, then we are no better than the filthy traitors who dirty his name. We of the ten thousand were closest to him, therefore, we should have been present to advise and protect him not only against the enemies of humanity, but the insecurities of his own mind. Even if the Emperor wished to hide this side of his from us, we should have been there for him. We should have been there to save him."_

Even so, it was not to be, as the Emperor was betrayed in the end, His downfall attributed to the most enigmatic of His sons.

As Valierian thought of this, he addressed Mal with a strained tone, struggling to expel the words from his mind.

"My lady, there is no matter deserving of my laughter. In fact, your humble words have inspired in me even greater devotion to your protection."

Wistfully, Valierian whispered,

"Perhaps, the Horus Heresy could have been prevented if you were present during the time."

Mal did not show any signs of hearing this, but her superhuman ears should have been able to easily gather the sounds. She simply looked up, stunned at the previous words of the custodian.

Shocked lips curled up in gratitude as Mal smiled with warmth.

"Thank you Valierian. You always know what to sa-"

At that moment, Mal's eyes went wide as she violently flinched backwards, as if some illusionary spell had been broken.

She gaped at Valierian for a few seconds before coming back to her senses.

Chuckling with embarrassment, Mal's voice was now back to its cheery, normal form.

"Sorry Valierian. I got way too offtopic. Thanks for hearing me ramble."

The custodian blinked in confusion. Had the grief in Mal's mind possessed her?

No matter, his lady was back, and it was Valerian's duty to aid her. He had no time to entertain his petty questions, not when an operation was about to begin.

Mal continued to walk towards the front of the ship, the Custodes tightly following behind her.

It did not take long to reach their intended location, as they were greeted with a compacted double door leading to the bridge. As she saw this, Mal stopped in her tracks, scratching her head nervously before turning back to face the Valierian.

"Oh, and I forgot to mention…."

Valierian tensed. He had a really bad feeling about this.

"This won't exactly be a diplomatic mission…"

He had a really bad feeling about this.

Mal's gaze frantically danced around the corridor, looking at everything but Valerian.

"Well, I said I was here to meet Lion, but actually… I'm actually here to sneak aboard the Dark Angels' base and wake him before they notice me."

Valierian used ninety percent of his self-restraint to hold back from slapping his face.

However, after thinking about it, he saw the logic in Mal's plan. It seemed crude and unrefined, but for someone like Mal, it was possible. It could also be the best course of action.

If they were to land and meet with the Dark Angels and tell them that the Primarch they thought to be lost was literally sleeping peacefully in their base, they would be met with only outrage and hostility. Even if a custodian is there to confirm Mal's claims, it would still not be enough to overthrow ten thousand years of religious belief and fanaticism.

However, if Mal were to sneak aboard and use the awakened Lion himself as proof of her claims, then the result would be obvious. Whatever hostility they may have would be completely drowned in the sheer joy at his return.

The only problem lay in the stealth part of the mission. Would someone with an aura as impressive as Mal's truly be able to conceal themselves?

In the end, that wasn't something he should be concerned with. The fact was, if he was there, then the stealth mission would be much more difficult. Even if Mal had a technique to conceal both of them, she would just be slowed down by his hulking mass.

While the Custodes are surprisingly silent and stealthy when they wish to be, Valierian could tell at a glance that Mal would do much better on this mission without him.

He wished to quell his mistress's eagerness and to urge her to create a more elaborate and foolproof plan, but stopped himself just as the words were about to exit his mouth.

Widening his eyes in thought, the custodian nodded to himself.

_It is my lady who is being addressed. She is a genius hand-crafted by the Emperor himself. She would not simply allow so many flaws in her plan! Unless…_

Valierian resisted the urge to chuckle.

_Of course. How foolish I am. An entire strategy must already be positioned insider her mind. There is no need to create a plan when it already exists. To even suggest that a genius like her to do so is the epitome of insults. My lady must already have a thousand detailed contingency plans for the situation ready to use at all times. That is simply who she is._

The custodian, coming to his own conclusions about Mal's plan, gave his consent for the mission, as he assumed that she already had a four-dimensional map of all the events that would come to pass in her mind, such was her tactical genius.

Therefore, there was only one thing to say. A simple farewell to his brilliant mistress.

"Then I bid you farewell, my lady. May you achieve your goal without delay."

Mal's embarrassed grin froze in place for a second.

"Eh?"

When the custodian did not say anything more, she asked, bewildered,

"You're not mad?"

It was difficult to interpret the custodian's body language, but it would seem that he was confused.

"There is no reason for my anger, my lady. If anything, I should be praising your genius in such a detailed strategy."

Mal blinked twice, the world utterly silent around her.

"But the only thing I said was that I would sneak aboard _The Rock_. What strategies are you talking about?"

"Surely you jest, my lady. I am referring to the grand plan you have in store for this mission. Every single possibility in this endeavor must be already predicted in your ingenious mind."

Mal gaped at her bodyguard in shock, whole seconds passing by.

"Uh... you seem to be overestimating me, Valierian."

The custodian chuckled.

"I will strive to meet your humble example, my lady. I wish you the best of luck."

The left side of Mal's face twitched repeatedly as her confused expression lingered on her face. Slowly spinning her body away from Valerian's direction, she said,

"Uhh… Ok then…"

Soon, the double-door opened with a glorious metal creaking, surprisingly dignified for such a noise.

Walking inside the room which lay beyond, Mal said her farewells, confusion still present on her face.

"Well, see you later, I guess…."

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With a flash of psychic might, Mal teleported herself onto the surface of _The Rock_. She used the least amount of psychic energy necessary to do this.

She had to do so from an enormous distance from her ship which was parked extremely far from the Dark Angels' base to avoid suspicion. However, when Mal used the powers of the Warp to enhance her vision, she saw the large base as if it was right in front of her, enabling her to teleport onto it.

Well, with the burst of power released during the teleportation, the librarians in the base must have sensed her. Mal knew that was going to happen a long time ago.

It just meant that she would have to avoid them more than everyone else. Sure, those librarians may raise high alert, but with what she was planning, it shouldn't matter.

Right now, Mal was already suppressing her own power, so no psyker around should have been able to sense it. At least she thought so.

Focusing on the area around her, Mal thought back to the words of her father.

Back when they were training, the Emperor had taught her an extremely valuable stealth maneuver.

Yes, it was extremely taxing and difficult to maintain, but for such a high-quality stealth tool, the preparations would be worth it.

Channeling the power of the Warp, Mal enforced her will upon the eldritch energies around her, transforming it into dazzling gold. She solidified the energy into a barrier which appeared around her in a translucent oval shape, obscuring her body from every angle.

The girl floated into the air in order to travel faster, credited to her telekinesis. Again, just something else for the Librarians to pick up on. However, she would restrict her powers to the absolute maximum, so the effect shouldn't have been that bad.

Closing her eyes, Mal delivered her will within the energies surrounding her, changing the properties of the barrier surrounding her.

The result was simple. The golden bubble around the girl, stretching out for three inches around her, had now become an information-altering barrier.

As in, any information gathered from the eyes, nose, skin, tongue, and ears within the barrier would be altered into information benefitting Mal.

All sensory receptors in the body receive information from outside the body, which is processed by the brain and converted into comprehensible knowledge.

The stealth tool created by Mal uses that function to serve its purpose.

Human eyes are lined with photoreceptors in the back to allow the capability of sight. Called rods and cones, these tiny devices are responsible for the grand view allowed to humans, granting the power to perceive everything in front of them. However, in the body part known as the eye, there is a blind spot. A small space where the optic nerve intrudes upon the back of the eye, denying the placement of photoreceptors on that specific location.

The non-vision of the area in which vision would be allowed if photoreceptors were present, is called the blind spot, a specific point in human vision which does not allow the enlightenment granted by sight.

Now, if the human brain was cruder, less sophisticated, then that spot would be rendered a black dot by the eye. After all, vision in that specific area did not exist, right?

Wrong. Unfortunately for many, the human mind is not truthful to its master.

The organ is a primary example of human arrogance, painting a sculpture of false extravagance to attempt to explain what it simply does not know. The simple blank in vision could not be accepted, no, would not be accepted, as the brain was far too conceited to allow it. Instead, the brain projects an illusion in the blind spot, covering it up in a portrait created by the most likely colors and shapes that would be in its place, effectively removing the hole.

Of course, the human has no idea that this is happening, unknowing of the fact that his own eyes are partially deceiving him.

Mal was essentially taking advantage of the brain's biological ignorance, using it to fuel her illusionary barrier.

The Warp energies in the oval shield around her would infiltrate the minds of humans who sensed it, completely obscuring it from their view, rendering the area within it a null void.

Of course, if it was just a regular shade of black, then it would be picked up by the eyes of any a man.

However, the hidden things within the barrier were not simply just black. They were null, completely dark to human senses, which in effect, is the same as the blind spot in human eyes.

Of course, this meant that the illusionary veil provided by the brain for the human eye's blind spot would also appear for this case also, except for all the senses. It was simple science, and a little loophole around Mal actually mastering reality-breaking stealth spells.

For the conjuring of spells, the laws of the materium could be a useful crutch that would save you from expending an unnecessary amount of power, if you knew how to use them correctly, of course.

Willing herself to fly forward, Mal traversed the stone surface of _The Rock_, paying barely any attention to the mechanical contraptions and additions on the base.

Frowning, Mal sighed in acceptance, as she realized just how daunting her mission was.

As her genetic origin is extremely similar to that of a Primarch's, Mal's body instinctively told her if one of her brothers were nearby, a function that seemed to be built into it. Furthermore, she was now a psyker, which meant that she could sense Lion's presence, as he was created with a combination of science and sorcery. Mal could quite literally feel her brother's shining presence from the edge of the solar system. It was like a flame in a sea of darkness.

Mal could sense the souls of mortals and psykers, but only at certain distances unless if she were to actively seek them out. But, Lion's presence took no effort to find. It just kept shining in its location, the flame-like substance dancing merrily, as if it were eager for her presence.

Mal's displeasure was thanks to the simple fact that the inner chamber which held the Lion was hundreds, if not thousands of kilometers underground. _The Rock_ was practically a whole continent, holding possibly millions of servants and servitors.

"_I thought it would be big, but not this big…"_

Rubbing her forehead, Mal sighed again.

"I probably shouldn't go faster than the speed of sound for this. Even if I'm flying, there's still a chance of bumping into someone in the air. I'm really sure that they wouldn't survive the impact, no matter how many augmentations they might have."

And so, the extremely slow, dull, and overly vexing journey began.

Mal slowly (by her standards) floated forward, traversing the barren surface of the base. There really wasn't much to see, just a sea of endless stone, formerly polished, now chipped and damaged thanks to the winds of time. It seemed to cover gunmetal grey spires and buildings, leading to the inside of the base, giving off an almost barbaric appearance.

She quickly flew into a landing dock for starships, which Mal presumed to lead to the inside of the base.

However, as she walked into the metal building, Mal soon realised that she had no way of getting in.

The metal doors leading to inside the star base was closed off, as no starship pilots needed to get in.

Mal sighed. She expected something like this, but it was still annoying to see.

"_Well, looks like I need to break through after all."_

Truthfully, she did not want to destroy Dark Angels' property, but since the Librarians were probably on to her already, Mal had no time to waste by waiting for a pilot to dock their vessel.

Pulling out her power-saber from her Warp-storage, Mal cut a square chunk of the skull-decorated door, the power field around the weapon separating solid pieces of sacred adamantium with surprising ease.

Mal had already checked for the presence of people near the location, and decided to act, as there was no one close. Simply put, a single door could not blind Mal's psychic sight, which saw souls as torches of flame in the sea of nightmares.

As she stepped through the hole in the door, Mal quickly extended a hand, inserting the melted piece of carved adamantium back into its previous position. Sending a stream of psychic energy into the metal, she willed it to cool, neatly compounding the separate part into the whole. Of course, Mal cut the part of the door with the least amount of detailed engravings and designs, as she didn't want to waste the time repairing such complex images.

As she entered the inside of the base, Mal quickly flew forward, uncaring for the many intimidating pieces of metal architecture around her.

She flew into every open path which lead to lower levels, quickly traversing the maze-like layout of _The Rock_.

Mighty stone and metal pillars and hallways were ignored. Impressive golden statues of the Lion and the Emperor were not even spared a glance. The large amounts of servitors and chapter serfs were barely even present in Mal's mind, the same for the musty incense and oil stench that enemated from every single one of them.

Mal had been to a Chaos Space Marines' headquarters. Odors like this were already nothing to her. Besides, almost every part of her mind was now focused on reaching her brother.

As the girl turned past the last piller-filled hallway, she realised that it lead to a large area, possibly a whole city wide. In that area, there were Space Marines, servitors, and a plethora of other humans. Each one of them seemed to be performing their duties, training, polishing, eating, along with many other things. Vehicles zipped through the air on heightened roads and streets, as if there were multiple layers to the city-like complex.

There were mighty buildings, made for war, where each of them rested in. Rhinos tanks, land speeders, along with other wartime vehicles were being polished and repaired within some of those structures. If Mal was paying more attention, she would have noticed the fervent chanting of the machines' caretakers, probably litanies of cleansing or something of that sort.

However, in this situation, Mal didn't bat an eye at any of this, instead continuing to fly forward, seeking hidden stairways or other paths to areas further underground. None of the airborne vehicles came close to hitting her, as a demigod's enhanced reaction speed made short work of their non-existent swiftness.

Eventually, she found one. It was some sort of stone stairway with two sword-grasping hooded statues to both sides, apparently as a decoration or as a warning. It could have been both.

Mal had less than a millisecond to admire the beautiful, completely symmetrical statues as her bullet-like speed forced her body speeding down the steps and to the structures further within. Mal was once more traversing corridors and hallways, with even more stone and metal before. To a lesser human, the area would have induced a sense of claustrophobia. To Mal, who almost had tunnel vision at this time, it might as well have not existed.

"_Ok, I really gotta hurry. There's no doubt the Librarians caught on to me now. They probably know exactly where I am. No choice, I'm going to have to go even faster!"_

Accelerating her already impressive velocity, Mal found herself pushing against an invisible wall with almost elastic properties. An invisible wall that seemed to be intent on following her for some reason.

Grinning at the challenge, the champion stretched her hands out to the apparent wall, pushing against it with all her accumulated speed.

As Mal's speed increased even further, her hands reached the wall, punching forward into it and stretching out the elastic material.

"_Not enough. Just a little more then."_

In another second, the elastic barrier's integrity began to fail, as the part stretched out by Mal's fists became thinner and thinner.

It did not take even a microsecond for Mal to burst through the wall after that, leaving the remnants behind her. The remains of the wall seemed to disperse to the sides of the hole through it, forming an enormous circular shock wave.

Suddenly, a gigantic burst of kinetic energy shook every single component of the corridor Mal seemed to be speeding past, like some sort of twisted combination of earthquake and avalanche. A booming wave of sound exploded in every direction, as if broken free from a prison.

The resounding shockwave could be felt for miles and miles away, leading many Dark Angels to investigate, wondering if there was somehow an enemy attack coming from inside the base itself. Of course, it did not destroy any rooms or topple any structures, credited to the immense durability of Imperial engineering.

Mal somewhat knew this was going to happen, but she didn't care. If the Librarians were already onto her, the rest of their brothers would not be too far behind. Besides, she was now officially too fast for them to catch, so it didn't even matter. They would not be able to react to an invisible opponent traveling faster than the speed of sound, and even if they could, they were not fast enough to do any real damage.

Nodding at her logic, the girl sped forth, the sound left behind by her movements futilly attempting to catch her accelerating body.

Naturally, at the speed Mal was traveling with, it only took a minute for her to reach a door. However, she was prepared for this.

Perhaps it lead to another level downstairs? Or maybe simply nowhere important. It didn't really matter. Mal was moving faster than the speed of sound, and she didn't feel like stopping.

Eyes glowing with golden power, a wall of blue fire three meters wide was sudden brought into existence in front of Mal, following her at an unbelievable speed.

Eyeing the billowing flames with satisfaction, Mal began to spin, her form contorting into that of a speeding bullet's. Of course, the flame followed her movements.

As the girl reached the metal door, her rotating appearance was already unlike that of a human's, resembling a whirlwind of gold. She brought about regular realspace flames to conceal her location from the Librarians.

The flame, however, became a literal whirlwind, as it spun and spun, becoming a rotation of unceasing fire. Soon, the flames were spread thin in all directions thanks to the speed at which it traveled, covering Mal's whole body as if it was protecting her in some way.

The resulting phenomenon resembled a tornado if it was flipped sideways, the base of the swirling flames becoming its head.

This result was indeed what Mal wished for, as she did not wish to slam headfirst into the adamantium door. It would hurt even if she had her current body. Besides, the impact would slow her drastically, which she did not want.

Therefore, Mal sped into the door with her fire-drill in front of her, the girl smiling at the anticipated result.

The door was almost completely burned away, a molten hole the size of a venerable dreadnought in its middle.

"_Hmm. Maybe I shouldn't have done that… Oh well, it doesn't matter. It's nothing out of the Imperium's wallet. The Dark Angels could just have it replaced easily."_

There was no chance the Astartes would complain about a sealed door if their Primarch was revived. Mal just needed to find the Lion and everything would be just fine.

Thinking this, the girl continued to speed forward, busting down all the doors in her way. Of course, since she did not have a map, Mal would run into many dead ends and wrong pathways. Therefore, it would take a long time for the girl to find the Lion's room. The doors weren't that big of a deal. She could just fix them later.

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Chapter Master Azrael was meditating in his champers, resting after his victorious return from a faraway campaign. Dressed in clear white robes, the man sat peacefully, sword and combi-bolter by his side.

He prayed for wisdom from the Emperor and the Lion, wishing for some sort of hope in these dark times. The sheer urgency of the Imperium's situation could have been seen just from a glance at the remains of Cadia, a glorious bastion defended by countless generations of loyal Imperial soldiers for thousands of years. For a long time, the planet was the pride of humanity, surpassed only by glorious Terra and wondrous Mars.

Now it was just a collection of lifeless rocks, drifting aimlessly in the void.

The sacrifice of all those loyal guardsmen, who had fought to the last man, completely invalidated by the Imperium's most disgusting foe.

After the revival of Guilliman, a small part of Azrael was overjoyed, believing that the previously bedridden Primarch would be able to unite the fractured Imperium and remake it into a better place, an empire that the Emperor would be proud of.

The Indomitus Crusade was shockingly close to fulfilling this secret wish. Guilliman had become the Imperial regent, arguably the most powerful man in the Imperium.

However, in the end, even the efforts of a living god like Guilliman was not enough to save the flawed empire, as a shocking number of high-ranked planetary governors and officials protested his wishes although he was the Emperor's son. Their refusal would daunt the regent's plans, bringing ruin to all.

It was truly despicable how humanity could do such a thing, placing their own wellbeing over the good of the whole Imperium. However, that was just how it was, and how it will always be. Azrael accepted this fact already.

Even so, that did not mean he had to like it.

However, he was duty bound to his brothers and the Imperium, and Azrael swore to serve both to the end of his days.

Inside of his meditative trance, the Dark Angel sighed as he could hear the doors to his chamber being opened by one of his brothers.

To his ire, a Librarian burst through the door, addressing him with a slightly panicked tone.

Azrael frowned. The young Space Marine in front of him was Brother Kalidian, someone who was usually calm and collected no matter the situation.

This battle brother would not panic even if he had to single handedly combat a horde of ferocious Tyranids. However, with a glance at his current condition, Azrael could not believe that this was the same Space Marine.

Disheveled parchments hung loosely from wrinkled robes, torn and ripped from careless sprinting. There was even a stain of blood at his sleeve, greatly bleeding into the fabric. It could be assumed that he either scraped it against a jagged surface, or that he fell. Neither was likely. Hard, scarred muscles were completely tensed and sweaty, almost as if the Astartes was in a state of fear.

Urgent eyes peered into Azrael's own from a pale face as the Librarian reported to him.

"Grandmaster! The situation is urgent! An intruder is on our base!"

Azrael's eyes snapped open in an instant as the Space Marine practically leapt from his sitting position, standing tall with the _Sword of Secrets_ unsheathed, firmly grasped in one hand, _Lion's Wrath _in the other.

The man who stood was no longer a peaceful monk in a state of rest. He was Azrael, Grandmaster of the Dark Angels.

His eyes narrowed, emitting a calculating light. His body positioned itself with dignity, forming a perfect standing stance fit for the most beloved of Saints and politicians.

Whoever could bring Brother Kalidius to this state would not be an easy foe.

"Tell me everything."

Those simple words, spoken with the Chapter Master's rich voice, containing the charisma of a legend amongst men, calmed the heart of the Librarian better than any medicine. The man immediately relaxed his body, devoting his whole being into the report.

"Grandmaster, I believe the intruder is a powerful psyker. Their origins and purpose are unknown."

Azrael grit his teeth before taking a deep breath. No matter how unbelievable the claims, he would not doubt his brother. After all, Brother Kalidian had proven himself time and time again in battle. While he was not extremely promising as a psyker, the Librarian was a good soldier, and a decent strategist.

Azrael's gaze seemed to piercing all lies, arriving only at the truth.

"You are sure of this?"

"I swear in the Lion's name."

The Chapter Master sighed.

"How powerful is the enemy psyker, and what method of sorcery did they employ to evade the security of our vessel?"

Kalidian could only shake his head.

"It would seem that they employed teleportation to board _The Rock_."

Azrael frowned.

"Either there is a teleportation beacon on our vessel, or the enemy is simply an extremely powerful psyker. The second theory is the most likely one."

Kalidian shuddered.

"In that moment, it's soul was revealed to me. Grandmaster, it was akin to staring into a sun. I cannot be sure, but the enemy is possibly an Alpha level psyker. An instant after the teleportation, their presence completely disappeared. I could not detect it ever since."

A chill crawled up Azrael's spine. How was this possible? Any Alpha level psyker would surely be driven insane by their own power. Surely they would not be capable of stealth.

No matter, there was still a dangerous intruder aboard the Dark Angels' headquarters. His priority should not be to identify the nature of the foe, but to protect the Chapter's secrets from them.

"I see. Then we are in dire straits. Assemble all able-bodied Space Marines and combat servitors in _The Rock_. Have them patrol every single authorised location in the base. Assign guards to the entrances to the restricted sections. Even the ancestral gates of ancient times cannot withstand the might of such a powerful user of the Warp."

Kalidian bowed.

"It shall be done, Grandmaster."

Azrael nodded. He began to walk out of his champers, following the Librarian who was steps ahead of him.

Suddenly, the ground itself began to shake and tremble, emitting a furious roar ahat barbaric cultures would have announced to be the anger of their gods.

Any other man would have had their balance utterly destroyed, falling to the ground instantly. Azrael was exempt from their weakness.

Cursing, the grandmaster looked at his bare feet as if they presented a grave danger.

"That came from beneath us. The enemy is already beyond the restricted section."

The Librarian's eyes widened as he struggled to keep his footing on the shaking ground.

"Change the orders! All forces are to converge at the entrance to the first restricted point! Those qualified to advance will join me in the slaying our foe!."

Azrael grimaced at the situation. Just how was the enemy so swift? Moreover, why had they created that shockwave? The implications were grim, and the Grandmaster was almost baffled.

Never in the history of the Dark Angles had they encountered a situation as bizarre as this. However, if there was any man qualified to bring his Chapter to victory in this situation, it was Azrael. His ability to quickly adapt would surely bring them to victory once again.

_Right?_

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Mal hit her head. That was the only way to say it. She hit her head.

A few seconds ago, Mal came across this large and intimidating gate, decorated by extremely fancy engravings and archaic technology. It seemed to be made of something different than the regular ceremite of the other doors, something much stronger.

In the end, Mal's fire drill was not able to bypass the sturdy wall, and she crashed headfirst into it at the speed of sound.

"Ahh! I can feel it in my brain!"

Her skull had fractured and a shard of it impaled itself in her brain.

It only took a second for it to heal, but Mal still grimaced at the pain. She was not used to this much of it, just like any other person originating from the second millenium. The fact that her pain sensitivity was much higher than a normal human's didn't help either. However, simply the knowledge that she was immortal reduced the extremity of the experience. After all, there would be no lasting consequences, so any worries would be unjustified.

Rising up, Mal wiped the blood that had dripped near her eyes as her skull reassembled itself.

She began to stare at the archaic door, which seemed to have a sword-shaped slot in it.

"_I think that this leads down… Yeah, it should."_

Mal decided not to break the door down, as she wasn't sure if she could fix it. This entrance was possibly irreplaceable, so she quickly found another way.

"_Guess I'll just go around then."_

Mal dispelled her invisibility barrier, as it was now unnecessary. Forcing nearby material to combine with the oxygen in the air, she created a brilliant blue flame on her palm, burning at temperatures that would melt stone.

Focusing on the area beside the door, Mal thrust the flame forward at the stone wall.

Instantly, the size of the fire expanded, becoming a raging inferno. In an instant, the stone making up the wall had been reduced to dripping magma, a large hole burned through the structure.

With no time to wait for the magma to cool, Mal dissipated her flame and leapt forward, not touching the burning rocks in her path.

What awaited her was simply another room, albeit with an empty prisoner's chamber this time. It was effectively a dead end.

Mal's eye twitched.

"_This is the last pathway I haven't explored yet. This means that there are literally no paths to Lion's chamber. I just wasted a whole five minutes of my life __unnecessarily_ _breaking through doors."_

Bringing a palm to her head, Mal depressingly sighed. She could feel the start of a migraine.

She could sense Lion's soul beneath her, for surely twenty meters at least.

Glaring at that elegant light for a few seconds, Mal slapped herself to the point where her forehead fractured.

Completely ignoring the pain, the girl muttered angrily,

"For frakk's sake! I could've just done this at the start!"

Forming two azure flames in her hands, Mal continued to glare at the ground beneath her, almost as if it were her enemy.

_"Yeah, I think this will be better."_

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Azrael gritted his teeth as he burst through another ruined door with his company.

The mysterious intruder had melted circular holes in every single of the adamantium devices, somehow reducing sturdy, ancient defenses into molten puddles.

The Chapter Master continued to descend further down the base, passing by more and more ruined doors by the minute. He was sprinting the fastest speed of an Astartes, the world becoming almost a blur around him.

Azrael was still in his simple robes, now torn and ripped thanks to his physical exertion.

He had brought along a company of Space Marines, veterans who had access to all but the most sanctified of sections. Some of these Astartes were fully armored, some in robes just like him.

They had no time to dress, as the intruder was already deep within their headquarters. Naturally, Azrael spearheaded his forces even in his unarmored state. He was Chapter Master after all.

After they sprinted for a few more minutes at maximum speed, Azrael suddenly stopped, his bare feet refusing to move, even when the kinetic energy of his sprint tore their skin, spreading it in a bloody mess across the stone ground. He paid it no mind, as the wounds were already scabbing, only for the hardened tissue to fall off and transform into healthy flesh mere seconds later..

Eyes wide, the Astartes eyed the sturdy adamantium door in front of him, specifically the sword slot positioned there as an activation key. This was the entrance to the former cell of Luther, the former right hand of the Lion himself. If the foe managed to reach this point, then they were not to be underestimated.

His head turned sideways, eyeing the hole made in the stone wall right next to the door.

Perhaps the foe was unable to destroy the door and instead settled for an alternative? If so, then this psyker was much less capable than he thought. Thinking of this, Azrael gained a shred of confidence.

He did not turn to regard his companions, stating his commands while facing away from him. Even in such a dire situation, the Chapter Master's form remained stoic, his voice calm and sturdy like a tranquil waterfall.

"Interrogator-Chaplain Asmodai, contact the rest of our Chapter. Only I alone am allowed to advance further, as so dictated by our traditions. However, if I fail to return within thirty solar minutes, you have permission to advance with all battle-brothers present. Purge the chamber in the Emperor's fire if necessary. This threat needs to be eliminated at all costs."

The hooded giant seemed to be discontent from this, foretold by the slight squirming in his body and a deep, metallic sigh. He was clearly pushing down feelings of agitation and disagreement. Perhaps he wished to torment the intruder?

"It shall be done, Grandmaster."

As the Chaplain turned on his heels, so did the other Space Marines who accompanied him. They began to sprint in the opposite direction, leaving Azrael in their wake.

Silent and alone, the Chapter Master wore a grim smile on his face, devoid of humor, for he was sure whatever lay beyond the hole in the wall would be something almost certainly beyond him.

Azrael was a veteran of many battles, commander of legions, and slayer of Daemons. While the mound of his achievements was so high that they would have taken several lifetimes for a man to count, the Space Marine was not arrogant. No, Azrael had always been overly humble for someone of his station, a feature that has aided him many times in his life.

This is why he knew, he knew that this battle would take every ounce of his strength and then some. Thinking logically, that would not be the only conclusion. After all, the enemy was supposedly skilled in the art of stealth, possessing such skill that they were able to conceal their presence from an entire bastion of Dark Angels security, not to mention the minds of several experienced Librarians, who had lost them after a brief period of time.

Yes, the sheer speed in which the intruder reached the restricted level was astounding. It took them mere minutes to traverse most of _The Rock_, something not even the Eldar would be able to do.

However, even if that was the case, it did not prove anything of their might in combat. After all, an agent or a group of agents skilled in stealth would likely not be as well trained in combat. They would certainly not be ready for a Chapter Master.

Even so, Azrael's innermost instincts as a warrior told him otherwise. Somehow, the veteran's gut told him that his fate would not be a pleasant one even if he took one step beyond the hole beside the prison's door.

While the Chapter Master's logical side wished nothing more than to bring an entire company into the room which lay in front of him, his spiritual side told him to at least attempt to respect the holy traditions of the Dark Angels.

Therefore, he compromised. Azrael would send himself into the fray akin to a guinea pig, as he was the only one who could go forth according to traditions. No one else in the chapter was qualified to enter Luther's former jail after all.

Sighing, Azreal peered into the molten hole in which the intruder used to enter the sacred prison.

It was the same exact room he remembered, and from what could be seen, devoid of life. No heartbeat nor breathing could be heard by the Astartes's ears, no killing intent to be found.

Azreal found this lack of presence more suspenseful than any other alternative, mentally preparing himself with a deep sigh.

Eyes determined, the Chapter Master stepped forward past the makeshift entrance, drawing his combi-bolter and power sword, tense and ready for battle at any given moment.

As he entered the room, Azrael's eyes darted around, narrowed gaze seeking out its target with sensor-like precision.

After all, there was a chance that the enemy lay in wait, camouflaged and ready to attack.

Azrael's grip on his weapons tightened, his senses stretched to their limits, attempting to find the hidden enemy at due haste.

However, there was no enemy to be found, proven as Azrael stepped beyond Luther's former cell, still bearing the damage of his jailbreak.

Eyes widening, the Space Marine could not help but exclaim,

"By the lion!"

This reaction was understandable, as a large circular hole was formed on the ground itself in front of him, wide enough for even the physique of an Astartes to fit through.

However, it was not the unruly entrance that captured his attention. No, it was what lay beyond that point.

As Azrael's eyes traveled several meters down the hole, they stopped at the shining glint of a piece of pitch-black metal.

After a closer examination, it didn't seem to be just a single piece of metal. No, rather than that, there seemed to be a smooth and polished surface, comprised of the same substance. It was a well-maintained and dustless work, devoid of any age and signs of ill-maintenance.

According to all logic in Azrael's mind, there could only be one conclusion.

There was a hidden chamber below the most sanctified room in the entire Dark Angels Chapter's headquarters.

Moreover, it remained undiscovered for possibly more than 10,000 years, seeing that _The Rock _itself was ancient even before the arrival of the Imperium on Caliban. Perhaps the ancestors of the original settlers of the deceased planet built this hidden room, or perhaps it was created in secrecy in later times.

This did not matter. What did matter was the fact that this room was undiscovered for so long. Such incompetence brought shame to the Dark Angels' name. By all rights, the mechanical sensors of the tech-adepts should have found this room ages ago. Then again, perhaps the unknown ebony material of the floor served to hide it from the sacred technology. There was no way to know for sure.

However, the fact that the intruder knew about the room which even the Dark Angels did not was very troubling. It was most likely that the target was a Daemon.

Azrael sighed. He truly wished Ezekiel was here. Unfoundedly, the Chief Librarian was off on some campaign to slay a group of Chaos cultists. It was a shame. His expertise would have been helpful in this situation.

While Azrael was not adept at slaying Daemons, he could still manage. Even so, that did not make it an easy experience.

Well, there was simply no helping it in this situation.

Bracing himself, the Dark Angel glanced at the ominous hole again, this time with trepidation. He knew that if he jumped down, he might never come back again.

But since when something as insignificant as the threat of death ever threatened an Astartes?

Taking a second to brace himself, Azrael jumped down, his fears all but banished.

He would be ready for whatever that came at him.

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The room was impressive, to say the least. Not in the glorious, power showing way that regular Imperial architecture seemed.

No, the room was far more futuristic than anything Mal had seen so far.

A five by five by five meter cube, the chamber was clad completely in a sturdy, black metal, lit only by the light which originated from the hole Mal made through the roof.

For any normal human, everything would be dark, akin to the view of a moonless night.

For Mal, it was as bright as a sunlit beach.

The room was near-barren, devoid of any decorations, engravings, or runes depicting past glories and prideful arrogance.

There were just those barren, spotless walls, the floor devoid of all dust.

In the center of the room, however, there was a black stone pedestal holding a large object.

It was a makeshift bed. A makeshift bed for a giant. It seemed to project a black psychic field around its inhabitant, possibly containing stasis properties.

Over ten meters in length and five in width, a silken platform lay on top of the pedestal, a sponge-like substance separating it from the stone of the pedestal.

Despite the apparent comfort of the makeshift bed, it was inelegant. The flat slab of raven-black silk was devoid of a pillow and any patterns. To anyone's eyes, it was simply a sheet of black.

It was more of a glorified pedestal than a bed.

The giant who slept evenly on that same bed did not offer much contradiction to the simplicity of the room.

He wore a simple brown robe, devoid of all other clothing. While the robe itself was created using the highest quality materials, offering incredible comfort, it did not seem so from the outside.

The giant himself, however, was a whole other matter entirely.

Pale, fair skin seemed to glisten even in the dimness of the room, a healthy glow emanating from the near-perfect flesh.

Curvy blond locks flowed freely from the Lion's head, resembling only the purest of gold. Countless nobles across the Imperium would put their own families to death for hair so fair.

A peaceful expression was depicted on a face torn by the fires of war. It was the face of someone who would never truly find peace anywhere else than the realm of dreams.

The rhythmic pounding of two steady hearts echoed across the room, mesmerising to Mal's ears.

The girl's expression softened as she eyed her gene-brother. She was having second thoughts of interrupting his slumber, and whatever dream he was experiencing.

"_I feel really sorry for doing this. Just seeing that face, I already want him to sleep more. His expression looks so peaceful. I wonder if that will still be the case if I show him the Imperium as it is now. No, I already know it won't, that is a definite fact." _

Sighing with regret, Mal stepped forward.

She wondered how she would do it. Perhaps a nudge on the shoulder, a tickling of the feet? The stasis field did not seem to be too strong, so anything would do. The black material making up the room seemed to protect it against most outside influences, such as sound, energy, vibrations, so forth. What was inside probably did not change for the past ten thousand years.

Mal was really surprised when she reached the walls while digging down. She was forced to use warpfire to melt it, an extremely concentrated burst at that.

Stepping forth, Mal almost reached the pedestal, deactivating her sensory-deceptive shield.

However, the sound of something dropping from the entrance she made on the ceiling stopped that, freezing her in her tracks.

Sighing again, this time with annoyance, Mal said without looking back,

"I can expla-"

She was cut off by the sound of bolter fire.

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As Azrael jumped down from the pedestal, his eyes immediately narrowed.

He seemed to be in a barren room, comprised of the metal he had observed earlier, proving his hypothesis.

There seemed to be a pedestal in the center of the room, with a man on it, laying down.

However, the view of the man's full body was obscured by a girl standing in front of it.

Dressed in civilian clothing, her long hair resembled the jet-black of the room, blending in with the room. She seemed to be somewhere between her teenage years and adulthood.

The girl's mere presence filled Azrael with a sense of familiarity, quickening the beat of his heart. He seemed to know it from somewhere, even when in actuality, he didn't. It was simply the blood in his veins reacting to the strange pressure.

There was something in Azrael's heart that condemned any possible aggression that he had towards the girl as evil, an act that goes against his very nature as a human.

Moreover, a strange sensation intruded upon his senses. It was murky, diluted to the point where he could not tell what it entailed.

What every single one of his senses told him was that the person in front of him radiated order. That was the only way to describe it, as it was the closest his body could translate the concept.

How could his body's five senses detect something like the concept of order? Azrael did not know the answer to that question.

However, somehow, this seemingly fragile girl struck more unease into the Dark Angel than even the most powerful Daemons that he faced.

Against them, he could simply fire away with his bolter, their meaningless attractive feats useless before his ideals.

They had attempted to tempt Azrael using his own bloodlust, his greed, his arrogance. Such seductions were easily perceived by the Chapter Master, and subsequently crushed underfoot like the unworthy aspirations they were.

However, the temptations released by the girl appealed even to someone like him.

It was as if Azrael's heart was being persuaded to protect his loved ones, to defend the things he cherishes with all of his power.

To his shock, the Dark Angel actually thought of conceding to the figure in front of him, ceasing their hostile relations. His lips curled up into a snarl as he focused his mental defenses.

Such "good" temptations couldn't be all, right? There must have been some underlying truth, like sacrificing millions to some false god, or to go against the words of the Emperor.

Right now, Azrael could not find any of that hidden dark side. All he felt from the girl was good, and that unnerved him. After all, a creature like her was just too good to be true in this horrifying galaxy.

It is a common lesson in the 42th millennium that hope is rarely anything but a bridge to despair. Azrael knew this, and decided that he would not let the enemy deceive him into failing his duty.

Aiming his combi-bolter before his body could betray him, the Chapter Master fired three rounds instantly, each one directly aimed at the back of the girl's head.

He would be damned before he fell to the temptations of a witch. Even as she attempted to speak to him, he still shot.

As the bolt shells flew through the air, swift red blurs across the air, they swiftly vanished into nothing right as they were about to hit the girl.

No, as Azrael looked closer, he found that there was smoke rising from the girl's now clenched fist, which was now shining a perculier shade of gold.

The girl lowered her head to sigh before stating,

"Nobody ever listens, do they? That's the whole problem with this place."

Then, the girl seemed to disappear into non-existence, although Azrael felt a large burst of energy from her location.

Now that the girl was not blocking the view anymore, the Chapter Master saw the man resting on the stone pedestal as clear as day.

Beautiful golden locks rested on fair, luscious skin, decorated by many battle scars. A peaceful expression from a face resembling Azrael's own greeted him in an unmoving state.

As his eyes widened to their limits, the Chapter Master astonishingly whispered,

"Father?"

This was to be expected. Even if Azrael had never seen the Lion in his life before, there was still something like a telepathic connection between them, as Primarchs were inherently psychic in some ways. There was no way a Space Marine would ever mistake their sire for another.

Just when he was about to take a step closer to his father, a gentle, silken voice whispered behind his ear.

"Sorry about this, but can you sleep for a little bit?"

Reacting instantly, the Space Marine swung his _Sword of Secrets_ in an arch, turning backwards so he could slash at his attacker.

Instantly however, a small limb struck Azrael's sword arm, packing the force of an accelerated bolt shell. This movement threw the sword in the air, flying in the Lion's direction.

Before the Dark Angel could act any further, he felt a great burst pressure on the back of his neck.

The last thing Azrael saw before blacking out was the apologetic face of a beautiful girl, patting him on the head with a gentle hand.

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As Mal stared at the fallen body of the Chapter Master, she could only smile apologetically.

"_Sorry Azrael. Fighting with my brother in the room would be too dangerous for him. I can't have anything happen, you understand."_

Fondly patting the hooded head of the Space Marine, Mal turned her head up.

"_Now, time to wake h-"_

Her smile was frozen on her face, her eyes wide.

This was to be expected. After, the Lion was standing in front of the pedestal, staring at her with those beautiful emerald eyes. His expression was even, a perfect poker face.

Perhaps he was woken by the sounds of bolter fire, maybe by the sound of the sword meeting the metal floor mere feet away from him. It did not matter. He was awake now. Still, standing up so silently that even Mal's ears could not sense him. Primarchs truly lived up to their name.

His eyes narrowed, as if he was scrutinising Mal. A fair expression turned suspicious as he eyed the sword in front of him, picking it up.

After examining it for a few seconds, noting the special and decorative features of the power sword, the Lion stepped towards Mal in those surprisingly fashionable robes, his footsteps so silent that not even the champion's ears could hear them.

Mal stared into those beautiful emerald orbs with her violet ones, drinking in their beauty. It was like they were sculpted by a great artist, attractive, perfect, almost unnatural.

Completely mesmerised, Mal's gaze didn't leave those eyes. She barely noticed when the Lion stepped towards her.

In those eyes, she saw a warrior's spirit, a father's concern, a strong sense of justice, a heart of gold, absolute loyalty, and…

"_Hold your horses! Is that killing intent?!"_

Only now realising the fact that the Lion had a sword in his hand and was walking towards her, Mal quickly backed herself into a wall, a feeling of unease creeping up her spine.

Her smile was extremely strained now, her hands touching the wall.

The Lion followed her retreat in a steady pace, glancing at the falle body of Azrael on his way.

After he did so, a frown appeared on his face as his pace quickened.

This monotonous act served to unnerve Mal even more as she began to talk.

The lion was ten feet away from her.

"I've"

Eight.

"Come"

Six.

"To talk"

Four.

"To you!"

Zero.

From four feet away, the Lion pounced like his namesake.

To Mal, who did not boost her body with psychic power, he was extremely fast, still perceivable, but fast nonetheless.

As the Lion stopped in front of Mal, emitting a sharp wave of kinetic energy from his swift movement, she shivered in surprise. Just why was her brother acting like some sort of horror movie villain?

She could feel his warm breath on her face, the killing intent in his eyes becoming two red glints in the darkness of the room.

Mal desperately tried to defuse the situation.

Waving her hands in front of her, she attempted to reason with the Lion.

"Hey, calm down ok? I don't mean you any ha-"

Something seemed to be wrong, something Mal could not place.

Looking into Lion's eyes, filled with hostility, Mal just found herself mesmerised again.

Then she looked down.

"Ack!"

A large glob of blood exited Mal's throat, splattering all over the Lion's robes and face.

He did not seem to mind.

He was the one who shoved Azrael's sword into Mal's stomach after all. There was no way he would mind.

Suddenly, an eruption of pain entered Mal's mind as her body registered the Lion's almost phantom-like attack.

Gritting her teeth, she found herself pinned to the wall behind her like some sort of twisted kebab.

Pain shot through her body as the activated power sword burned her regenerating flesh like a torch. It had punctured her stomach.

Resisting the urge to scream, Mal took a deep breath.

"_Remember Mal, pain is just a useless signal your body sends you. Just a signal Mal, it doesn't matter since you're immortal."_

Taking a deep breath, Mal spoke through the agony.

"Can you not? My stomach acid is literally spilling out right now. I can feel it eating away at my frakking kidneys already, so can you take this damned sword out of me?!"

If the Lion was surprised at this, he did not show it. Instead, he simply replied with a monotone voice,

"Who are you?"

The voice was rich, sturdy, and masculine.

Any normal woman would instantly be instantly entranced by the sheer beauty of it, reproductive instincts flaring past the point of no return.

But Mal did not have such feelings for her brother, so she was barely affected.

"Is that really the question you should be asking me right now? Just randomly impaling someone to a wall and saying intimidatingly, 'Who are you?' This is why you don't have a girlfri-ugh!"

Mal's sarcastic response was apparently not the right thing to say. The lion's eyes seemed to narrow before he twisted the power sword with Mal impaled on it, causing the girl to hiss in pain.

Mal's eye began twitching as she stared at this annoying brother of hers. She was a little bit angry.

"Alright. I'll tell you who I am if you take this damned sword out of my gut. Good deal, right?"

There was no answer.

Calming herself, Mal sighed again. This was getting beyond annoying and reaching the point of infuriation.

Lion did not listen to what she had to say even when she came all this way for him, literally pinning her to the wall like some sort Slaneeshi kabe-don. He didn't even like her either.

Well, Mal did knock out Azrael, but it was just a chop to the neck. He would wake up in a few hours without any other side effects. The Lion would be easily tell that such a weak blow would not be fatal.

Still, this was the first meeting between Mal and one of her brothers. It wasn't exactly awkward, but having a sword in her stomach was not the way she thought it would go.

Well, Mal understood why Lion didn't want to let her go. She was an unknown factor to him. Since Mal was hiding her powers, he didn't know that he was the Emperor's daughter.

For all he knew, Mal could be an agent of Chaos, or just a really powerful rogue psyker. Lion probably took her incredible regeneration as a product of biomancy, so he would not be too curious about that particular aspect of her body.

Still, even if all this was true, Mal didn't want to stay impaled to a wall for much longer. It hurt after all.

"Three seconds Lion, that's the amount of time I'll allow this blasted sword to stay in my stomach."

Mal stared at her nails, as if checking for impurities.

The Lion began to tense his body, sensing danger from the person in front of him.

"Three."

Mal began to check the nails on her other hand.

"Two."

Lion gripped his sword with one hand, his other curled into a fist. He would be ready if Mal tried anything.

Mal stared at Lion's eyes, violet orbs scrutinizing green.

"One."

A golden aura formed around Mal as her gaze suddenly became more penetrating than a boarding torpedo.

"Zero"

A massive fist flew towards the girl's face at a supersonic speed, only to be deflected by a golden barrier that seemed to form around her. It bounced off harmlessly, the signs of swelling already appearing.

Lion attempted to drive in the sword in Mal's stomach even further, but found himself stopped easily by one of her hands, gripping the blade of his power weapon, completely ignoring the molecule-separating field around it.

A seemingly fragile hand, belong to what appeared to a delicate maiden, was covered in a sheen of light gold. It forcefully drove the blade out of its owner's stomach at a slow, but steady pace.

To his growing concern, Lion found that even with all his strength, he could not make Mal's grip on the weapon falter.

He struck at her several more times to no avail, the blows deflected easily by her force barrier.

As the blade finally exited Mal's body, causing the girl to sigh in relief, the lion decided to cut his losses and jump back, bringing his body into a fighting stance in a millisecond.

Mal began to walk forward after throwing the sword in the air and catching it by the pommel. She threw it into the air again, catching it with her other hand. This motion was repeated as Mal continued to walk, creating the image of a flamboyant juggler.

She stopped five feet from Lion, neither of them making a move. No doubt that thousands if not millions of combat scenarios were running in the giant's brain. His complexion was weary and tense. There seemed to be a hint of familiarity in his eyes, but he was surely suppressing it.

Without warning, Azrael's sword was thrown blade first at Lion, the power field deactivated.

Smoothly catching the weapon by the hilt, Lion instantly reactivated the ower field.

However, Mal was nowhere to be seen, only the remnants of a psychic flash of gold in her wake.

Eyes narrowing, Lion swung his sword in a large arc, spinning backwards to hit the target that was behind him.

The strike cut nothing but a bright golden light. The Primarch cursed before attempting to turn back, as he once again knew the position of his foe.

However, he was not fast enough, and the girl's arms locked around his tree trunk-like neck.

Mal affectionately nuzzled her head against her brother's mountain-like shoulders as she sighed in relaxation. Agitation turned to fondness as fun seeped through the cracks of duty.

_"Having a brother sure feels nice, even if he's trying to kill me."_

Snarling, the seething wild animal in front of her attempted to rip her arms off of him to disable what he perceived as an extremely ineffective choke hold.

However, Mal had reinforced her arms with biomancy, and nothing short of a Warlord Titan could pry them off.

It was like one of those games they used to have in her world, the one where a person hung on to the back of an angry bull, giving their all into not falling off.

Mal 's eyes seemed to gloss over as she dreamily purred with satisfaction.

_"Ah, making first memories with my brother. I've dreamt about this for years."_

However, reality was not that sweet, and Mal couldn't afford to be either. Unfortunately, she would have to end the pleasurable sibling bout.

Her face became serious.

Letting go of the Lion's neck, Mal landed on her feet, elegant and tall.

Loosening the barrier on her powers, she allowed two flickering angel wings to spurt from her back, along with a weakly-glowing halo and pale yellow eyes.

Her voice became deep and rich, the sound of a hundred saints speaking as one.

"**Enough!"**

Suddenly, Lion found himself pushed to the floor and unable to move, his movements restricted in every way. It didn't matter what he did, movement was impossible. Limbs spread out in a star shape, he saw a golden aura around him, a side effect of Mal's abilities.

Mal's brows were furrowed, her eyes glaring.

With the Lion immobilized, he would have to hear everything she had to say. However, she could not do this. After all, forcing him like this would make her seem like a tyrant, and Mal did not want to appear authoritarian, not to her brother.

"**Please listen to what I have to say, you can do anything you want to me later."**

Suddenly, the golden wings and halo worn by Mal all disappeared, her eyes returning to their normal shade of violet.

Lion's immobilization was suddenly removed. However, he did not seem to be getting up, as if he was surprised by what Mal was said.

Eyes wide, the Primarch simply stared at Mal from his fallen form, as if he wasn't quite sure what she was. The similarities of her powers and the Emperor's must have played an important part as well.

Mal stepped forward to the fallen form of her brother, bending down.

Putting on the brightest smile she had at her disposal, the girl stared at lion in his eyes, offering a hand to him.

With a playful and cheerful voice, she spoke softly.

"Welcome back, big brother."

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As Azrael's eyes opened, he realized that he was lying down on a bed in the apothecarium.

"_T-The apothecarium?"_

Suddenly, the memories of his failure registered in his mind. Thanks to this, Azrael immediately sat up, glancing at his clean robed form.

"_I failed, therefore the enemy escaped? No, maybe my Chapter captured them and subsequently recovered my body."_

Even so, that still didn't make sense.

"_Why did the enemy not immediately slay me? There would be no reason to keep me alive. I told Asmodai to take his company only if I did not return in thirty minutes. What enemy would leave my condition stable for that long?"_

Flexing his body, Azrael's eyes widened.

He could not feel the aftermath of any injury. The part of his neck where the enemy struck wasn't even sore. In fact, he felt wonderful, almost as if he was a newborn baby.

"_What? Just what?"_

However, such thoughts were immediately ignored when another memory secured its presence in Azrael's mind.

"The Primarch! Is he injured?!"

As Azrael asked this question to the open air, the door to the apothecarium suddenly opened.

The Chapter Master sucked in a breath to shout orders to the man he assumed to be the apothecary before he was revealed. After all, the state of the primarch needed to be known.

Azrael didn't even care that the Lion was hidden inside of his own base all this time. All that mattered was his safety.

However, instead of the chief apothecary, a near thirteen-foot tall man entered the room, clothed in the dark monastic robes of Caliban.

Azrael's mouth immediately stopped moving as his eyes became wide.

The Lion's lips curled up into a slight smile.

"What about me being injured?"

Strong emerald eyes greeted Azrael's own, accompanied by flowing golden locks resembling golden string.

The Lion stared proudly at the Chapter master, showing approval for his feats.

Azrael's eyes began to fill with liquid as he gazed hungrily at his gene-sire.

Countless years of stress, secrecy, and responsibility that had been weighing on the man's heart dissipated in a single second. The feeling of relief which was not present in Azrael's body appeared in a raging tsunami, filling him with well-deserved pleasure.

Finally, the Fallen Angels could truly be brought to justice. The traitor Luthor could finally be recovered, and the Dark Angels's honor could finally be restored. The Imperium was officially a step closer to salvation.

Surrounded by the sounds of bubbling chemicals and the smells of disinfecting chemicals, and most importantly, his father, Chapter Master Azrael genuinely cried for the first time in centuries.

**Hopefully I got Azrael's personality at least semi-corect. I can't find any books about him, so I had to improvise.**

**This chapter was really hard to write, due to my sickness and lack of information. Sorry.**


	12. The Lion's Decision

**Oh, I'm sorry, but I can't really reply to the guests who don't have accounts. There is no way to differentiating between them when I am replying. Maybe if I copy-paste their comments here it would help? What do you guys think?**

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Lion was confused and puzzled, with no way to quell his curiosity.

The strangest girl to ever exist in the galaxy stood before him, smiling warmly at the man who ran her through with a power sword moments earlier.

He expected her to hold a grudge at least, but that didn't seem to be the case. The girl, who introduced herself as Mal, was agitated when she was pinned to the wall, but anyone would be if they were in her position.

Afterward, she became playful and joking, as if nothing had happened.

The wound in her stomach had healed properly without any problems, leading Lion to believe that she was a psyker, a powerful one at that.

However, this was all unimportant information, pitiful side-dishes compared to the true main course.

She claimed to be the daughter of the Emperor, his sister.

If any other woman had claimed this, then chivalry or not, Lion would have shoved his sword so far down their throat that it would come out the other end.

However, there was proof of Mal's claim.

Simply, her psychic signature was simply too similar to the Emperor's, to the point where even a non-psyker like Lion would be easily able to realize the similarities.

However, that was not all.

Something in Lion's heart seemed to feel a sense of familiarity with her, the girl that he had never met with in his life. It was the same subconscious feeling he had with his brothers, just incredibly stronger.

Was it because Mal was a psyker?

No, that factor may have had a part to play, but surely it would not be all. Even Magnus was not able to cause such a strong reaction in him.

The only feasible conclusion was that Mal was a Daemon in disguise, or that she was telling the truth. After all, knowing the brilliant scientist the Emperor was, nothing could be put past his ingenious mind.

Therefore, Lion asked suspiciously,

"Is there proof of your claims?"

To that, Mal frowned.

"Well, I guess this little bit of aura wouldn't be able to convince you. Fear not! You'll believe me soon enough."

The confused Lion furrowed his brows, about to ask just exactly what Mal meant. However, he never got the opportunity.

The very air seemed to grow in heat until it came to a boil. Gravity seemed to have increased a hundred-fold.

In the room Lion currently stood in, the metal of the surroundings seemed to glow with a bright red heat, almost to their melting point.

However, even when the air burned and the ground boiled, there was naught but a comforting heat, the satisfying warmth that would be felt by a man recently escaped from an icy death world.

Golden fumes spread across the room, smelling of cleansing fire, not truly pleasing to the human nose, but strong and hardy, as if inspiring these traits in any who smelled it.

Lion was almost disturbed just how _right _everything seemed to feel. Even as the very floor boiled beneath him, the human inside him preached that everything was alright, that this was the best possible thing that could happen. The feeling appealed to his morals, his honor, his very humanity itself.

If the concept of order was perceivable by human senses, then this feeling would be exactly that.

Tzeench's power allowed his victims to perceive eldritch things normally unperceivable by third-dimensional life forms, driving them utterly insane with impossibly-translated information no mind would be able to handle.

Slaanesh allows her victims to experience sheer and absolute pleasure, submerging them in sensations normally impossible to feel for third-dimensional beings. However, unlike the victims of Tzeentch, they are not driven insane. No, what he does is much worse. Drowned in a bottomless ocean of pleasure their body impossibly processes, the recipient's mind has nearly all of its stored information replaced with these sensations, making the seeking of pleasure all they know.

The Emperor, however, does not partake in these despicable and abhorrible acts. No, what he does is arguably more terrifying and cruel than both of them combined.

His victims become able to feel the sensation of order with their bodies, basking in the glorious aura the Emperor attempts to preserve. Their minds become open, and He introduces them to the true meaning of order.

This information, of course, is not compatible with the minds of third-dimensional creatures.

As the Emperor shows them order in its purest form, in other words, himself, the true torture begins.

In most sentient organisms, the pursuit of order is mostly more present than the pursuit of Chaos. Even while the rulebreakers and troubled ones revel and bask in their immoralities and sins, there is a part of them that desires order. That component is always much larger than they realize, which leads to their downfall.

There is always a part of the body that seeks to appease personal morals, to appease to order. Even in the most chaotic of individuals, this component is always there, hiding deep within their hearts, just waiting to be unleashed.

And unleashed they are. As the Emperor's victims become able to sense his majestic self, the order-loving component in their body springs up, as if pieces of metal dragged towards a gigantic magnet.

At that moment, they think back on their actions, reflecting upon their past selves before the embodiment of order before them. They see in their hearts that they have opposed Him, and they weep.

His enemies, filled with such guilt and self-loathing that not even suicide can appease, curses and hates themselves for the rest of their existence, desperately seeking repentance even in the afterlife, spending all of eternity as a ghost crying out for forgiveness that is rarely ever given.

Such is the nature of the God-Emperor.

He does not need to smite his enemies, or to punish them in any way of his doing.

They will do so themselves, as the inner sense of justice in their hearts demand it.

That was the most terrifying aspect of the God of Humanity. For he did not only embody the concept of order, but also the concept of justice.

He would not punish you, not when any punishment he would be willing to give is infinitely more delightful than the ones you would inflict on yourself.

Of course, this was only for the most complex and extreme of circumstances. Right now, Lion only felt Mal's aura, which seemed to radiate the very concept of order. There was also some justice mixed in there, but that didn't need to be known just yet.

Lion's eyes widened as he stiffened in alarm.

The reason for that behavior was because of the elegant and grandiose golden wings that stretched out of Mal's back, several meters wide, accompanied with the shining golden halo over her head.

Golden eyes peered into his very soul as an amused smile bloomed on Mal's lips. She seemed to radiate a golden energy, coming off her in wisps of smoke and dust, her entire body caressed by a bright, blinding shine that resembled a burning sun.

Lion's eyes narrowed. This was the same transformation that happened when she apprehended him earlier. While it was uncannily similar to the Emperor's own aura, it did not make Mal's claims concrete.

By all means, it should have. After all, her presence was so close to the Emperor's that it seemed impossible for her to be the subordinate of anyone else. However, a small part of Lions heart was still unsettled.

The amount of tricks Chaos could play was many in number, and people had been fooled into following false prophets under such phenomenon. Lion was extremely wary of these tricks to the point of detrimental paranoia.

However, he would place his faith in Mal for the moment. While his suspicions were not quelled completely, Lion was still in her debt for awakening him, even if her methods were less than ideal. Besides, openly distrusting the girl was not beneficial for Lion, as he needed information from her, even if it had a possibility of being inaccurate.

She had said that he was asleep for ten thousand years, a theory that he had yet to confirm. However, seeing the unknown space marine knocked out on the ground, he confirmed that he was not in his time. The Astartes known as Azrael was not someone who was born during his time. The fact that this man was the Supreme Grandmaster did nothing but bolster Mal's claim.

Still, such a long time after the Horus Heresy. Lion suddenly felt butterflies in his stomach as he wondered just what happened to the Imperium after such a long time, without the guidance of the Emperor, who was probably still bound to the Golden Throne.

When he had asked for answers to these questions, Mal chuckled nervously before telling him that she wasn't the best person to explain it to him.

He had accepted this information with a nod. Since he was currently in Aldrukh, Lion could just ask for a Dark Angel to inform him of any information he wished for.

He could not believe that he slept right underneath his sons' noses for ten thousand years, however, as the sheer infuriation of the knowledge made Lion grit his teeth. Just what kind of joke had fate played on him? Such a thing would make the Dark Angels the laughing stock of the galaxy if it was found out. The Chapter just gained yet another secret to keep.

Overall, it seemed that the entity known as Mal was trustworthy, at least for now. While he didn't recognize her as his sister, he would at least listen to her. Lion now owed a favor to Mal after all.

As Mal sealed her overwhelming aura once again, Lion stepped forward, raising a gigantic hand to her.

"I cannot trust your words without further proof, but know that I am in your debt for awakening me."

Mal's eyes widened. She seemed shocked at his words, confusing the Lion. What was there to be confused about? The codes of Calibanite chivalry demanded that he owed her until a gift greater than his awakening was delivered. Such a rule was imprinted in him on his home planet, and he would follow it until the end of his existence.

Seeing the hand, Mal shook it with her own, moving it up and down slowly. She suddenly winced.

"Do you remember what I said earlier?"

Lion raised an eyebrow.

Mal sighed.

"I really don't want to mention this, but since I always keep my word to friends, I'm honor-bound."

Lion had no idea where she was going with this, simply standing and listening. Just the fact that she actually considered him as a _friend _was astounding.

"Well… remember when I told you you could do anything you wanted to me after we talked? I was serious about that. I did sneak aboard your ship and destroy several doors, knocking out the Chapter Master. I'll let you punish me however you want to if it doesn't take too long."

Lion blinked as he actually spent a moment to process this information. After all, what came out of Mal's mouth were words fitting of something akin to Slaaneshi cultist or Daemon, not a defender of mankind. The implications behind the words were too obvious… or was it?

He frowned as he looked at the expression on Mal's face, innocent and pure, devoid of any desire. In fact, she seemed to be bracing herself for some sort of sentence to be imposed on her. Mal did not seem to realize what her words suggested.

Lion's impression of her elevated. She was able to turn herself in for her wrongdoings, showing her lack of arrogance.

"I already owe you a debt. Do not ask me to perform such unhonourable actions."

Mal smiled in relief.

"I see. Well, that's good for me then. Now, let's go tell your sons that their father is back."

Lion nodded as he stepped towards the exit, the girl following close behind.

However, the stomping of ceremite on rock stopped them in their tracks as a furious voice approached.

"Brothers! Grandmaster Azrael has fallen to the enemy! We shall avenge his death through the death of our foe!"

As a dozen furious cries of agreement erupted from the space marines approaching the pair, Mal slapped her face with a hand, groaning in annoyance.

Lion heard her mutter a curse under her breath.

"_Frakking Asmodai. Of course it's him."_

From that statement, it would appear that their leader was someone named Asmodai.

Lion had no idea who he was, but it sounded as if Mal was exasperated at the very thought of him. Had they met before?

There was no more time to think as a hooded Chaplain burst into the room through the hole Mal made in the wall, both melee weapons drawn.

The rest of his followers soon did the same, carrying flamers in their hands, ready to spray their deadly promethium payload.

A dozen auspexes scanned across the room, attempting to detect enemies. What they discovered was much more important.

All of the space marines froze instantly as their eyes drank in Lion's presence, none of them able to mistake him for another man.

The first of them to act was Asmodai, fitting, as he was their leader at the moment.

It was a moment straight out of a painting. The sons meeting with their father after a long ten thousand years. Truly, poems and stories needed to be written in its honor.

For the Astartes present, it truly was a historic moment, the reunion of the Dark Angels and their Primarch. Each one was honored beyond words that they could be present at such a meeting. Surely, they would carry this privilege for the rest of their lives, fighting more vigorously than ever before in the face of xeno and traitor alike.

With fluid grace, Asmodai knelt down instantly like he had been practicing for the occasion for whole centuries, laying down his crozius and archeotech weapon on the ground, power fields deactivated.

Some of the extremely surprised Astartes almost dropped their weapons in shock, securing their hold on their wargear in mere milliseconds after their error was recognized.

Soon, the twenty space marines Asmodai had brought with him were all bowing in reverence, greedily drinking in the dignified aura of the Lion.

They were shocked beyond words, acting as if Mal wasn't even present. Well, it was basically true. Every single Dark Angel's attention was completely focused on their gene-sire with every fiber of their being. Even if their attention-spans could be ridiculously spread out, it did not apply for a situation like this.

Mal herself did not seem to mind, smiling brilliantly as she drank in their reactions. It was incredibly satisfying to see these trained warriors suppress the surge of tears that threatened to drip from their eyes. She wanted to laugh, but that would ruin the moment, so she simply stood to the side and watched.

Lion did not speak for a time, his eyes judging his sons like an arbite to a criminal. His eyes glanced over Asmodai's glorified torture device several times before moving on.

After a short time, he seemed to find them satisfactory, moving on to place a hand over the Chaplain's shoulder pauldron in a gesture for him to rise.

To a normal man, it would seem that the space marine rose with nobility, honored by the action of his gene-sire. His movements were strong and resolute, completely controlled to not disappoint the Lion.

However, both Mal and the Lion knew that Asmodai rose on shaky legs, the slight vibrations of his armored legs audible to their ears. Judging by his barely-visible head movements, it would seem that the Chaplain was restraining his facial expressions to the best of his ability.

Mal had disabled her mind-reading abilities at the moment, but she didn't need it to know the sheer amount of positive emotions Asmodai was feeling.

Smiling, she placed a hand to her cheek.

"_Honestly, I can't laugh at something like this."_

Asmodai, almost stuttering to keep his voice from cracking, acknowledged his father's return.

"M-My lord."

Lion thought to Mal's murmuring earlier and decided to call the Chaplain by his name as an acknowledgment.

"Chaplain Asmodai."

Asmodai's breath seemed to be caught in his throat for a second before the uneven and heavy breathing coming from his mask became even more so. To think that the Lion himself would speak the name of someone as unworthy as him. This was not an honor the chaplain ever expected in his life.

Of course, the fact that the Lion actually knew his name was completely disregarded. Primarchs had access to incredible and almost unnatural powers. This was an accepted fact.

To his credit, Asmodai was actually able to quell his own disbelief and bliss to shout inspiringly to his battle-brothers.

It sounded quite like his normal self too. Mal resisted the urge to clap.

While the Emperor showed her visions of Asmodai, they had always involved the space marine disobeying orders, dissolving positive relations, and torturing people for absolutely no reason. She saw him in a slightly better light now.

"Brothers! At long last, the Lion has returned to us! After ten thousand years of dedication and faith, the Emperor has answered our prayers!"

The shocked Space Marines were now kneeling in reverence, weapons laid down on the floor.

"The time of glory is upon us! The Dark Angels have been truly restored this day! Praise be the Emperor! Glory to Caliban! Hail to the Lion!"

The Dark Angels, normally a quiet and reserved Chapter, now roared out their pleasure as one, their voices resounding within the room like a hundred thousand war drums sounding at once.

Lion just watched this all the while, frowning.

"_It would seem I was truly asleep for ten thousand years."_

He called to Asmodai, curious.

"Chaplain."

Asmodai turned to his father and kneeled again, ecstatic to be called on by Lion once again.

"My liege, your wish is my command."

Every space marine in the room became silent, straining their eardrums to their limits in order to listen to Lion's orders.

"It would truly seem that I have been asleep for ten thousand years. Therefore, I am in need of knowledge of the current situation of the Imperium."

Asmodai nodded. He had expected this question. It was only natural.

"It shall be done. Our librarians will perform to their finest in explaining to you the proceedings after the Heresy."

Lion immediately frowned, about to speak out against this outrage. After all, the Librarius divisions of all Space Marine Legions were disbanded after the Treaty of Nikea. The existence of an actual librarian was distressing to him, especially after the dangers in inherently possessed by all psykers.

He did not support the decision of the treaty, but to think that his father's express laws would be so brazenly disobeyed after a whole ten thousand years. The current Imperium must have truly been decadent.

However, Lion then felt the soft tapping of a finger against his lower back, courtesy of Mal. She seemed to make a shushing sound.

Lion understood. For whatever reason, the issue of Librarians should not be discussed at the moment. He trusted her with this. After all, he came to the same conclusion himself after a few seconds.

After all, if Lion acted out against the Librarians, then he would be alienating a fraction of the whole Chapter. A fraction that was possibly more helpful than a thousand guardsmen regiments combined. That was not beneficial in any way. Lion would gather further information before making his final verdict.

Nodding in consent, he accepted this, and remained silent.

However, Lion's eyes narrowed in annoyance once every space marine pointed their flamers at Mal, finally noticing her presence.

She simply smiled and waved at their reaction to her presence.

Inwardly sighing, Lion held out a hand for the Dark Angels to lower their weapons.

He did not think of Mal as an enemy anymore, and his sons needed to share this point of view.

After all, if they made her their enemy, then she would be able to tear them into pieces with her bare hands.

"Cece hostilities, Dark Angels. The girl is not an enemy."

Asmodai snarled, putting two and two together after seeing the collapsed body of Azrael on the ground. Twin power weapons flared as their generators were activated, the Chaplain's terrifying mask adopting an even more sinister visage than normal.

"But my liege! She invaded Aldrukh, attacked the Grandmaster, and intruded upon your sanctum!"

Lion stared at him.

"She was the one who awakened me from my slumber. I would still be asleep, unknown to all if the girl had not done what she did. Grandmaster Azrael is unharmed, only unconscious. I have confirmed that he will wake in but a few hours."

Asmodai appeared to want to object, but restrained himself. The Lion had decreed the girl to be an ally, and it was his duty as a Dark Angel to honor it.

"As you wish, my lord."

Lion nodded once more.

"Good. Then let us be on our way."

Mal snickered.

"_It took that long for them to notice me. Huhuhu, I know you're happy, but that does not excuse you for something like this. I'm an amateur at conventional stealth techniques, so my appearance should have been instantly noticed. Then again, perhaps it was? Maybe they just ignored me?"_

She shrugged.

"_Well, that doesn't really matter. My mission is complete. Now, Lion just needs to be informed."_

Tapping his back once more, Mal addressed her brother.

"Lion. If you have any questions after this, ask me. I'll try to answer them."

To this, the Primarch nodded in acknowledgment, maintaining a perfect poker face. Even though the emotions and thoughts behind that expression were many in range, he hid them well.

"Very well. I shall seek your presence after my meeting with the Librarian."

Mal smiled, having received her answer.

"Understood. I will be back in ten hours. Use that time to process the information and to sort your thoughts."

Pointing to Azrael, Mal's smile became wider.

"Oh, and you should let Azrael keep the helmet. Dad's shown me some of his exploits, and I think that he more than deserves it now. You should be able to manage with something else, right?"

Asmodai seething in fury behind him, Lion tilted his head, confused yet again.

However, before he could ask for an answer, a golden light shone in the room akin to a flashbang grenade.

The brightness encompassed Mal for a second before vanishing, to the astonishment of all the men present.

After the light's disappearance, the girl was nowhere to be found, already dispersing empyrean particles. Immediately, the space marines tensed, knowing the brilliant shine of teleportation when they saw it.

Lion raised a hand for them to calm. He knew that Mal would not do him any harm. After all, she had proven herself to be trustworthy, for now at least.

Walking out of the room, the Primarch's mind found itself anxious for the first time in ten thousand years.

Just what happened to the Imperium in his absence?

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As Mal entered the Warp, she snorted at the twisting and churning malefic energies around her. As the whispers of a billion Daemons closed in on her from all directions, the girl raised an eyebrow, doing a lazy sweeping motion in the likeness of a man shooing away an annoying fly.

In an instant, brilliant golden energy exited from Mal's every pore, blasting forward in all directions.

The pained screams of Daemons could be beard all around as the wave washed over them, containing the very concept that opposed them like no other.

Order, anathema to the Dark Gods in all respects, entered every possible opening in the Daemons' ethereal bodies, searing them from the inside out with holy energy.

It did not kill them, but they wouldn't be back for a long time after that. Even Daemons could be slightly traumatized after all. It just took a great deal more effort than a human, plus a large amount of unconventional methods.

Mal smiled as she looked for the burning flame of her custodian's soul, finding it a great distance away.

The brilliant fire burned a radiant gold, unwavering and strong, symbolizing the personality of its owner.

Mal smiled at the easily-recognized soul. The Emperor had created his Custodes masterfully. Their souls were absurdly strong despite not possessing any psychic powers. They would not face the problematic fate of humans souls in the afterlife, sometimes extinguishing due to its sheer genetic weakness.

The Custodes' souls were even capable of fending off most Daemons that came for it, easily holding back anything less than a Greater Daemon.

They were also extremely easy to perceive for all psykers due to their sheer brilliance.

Swimming through the Warp in a speed that would put starships to shame, Mal sped directly towards that burning flame, reaching it in due time.

As she did, the girl adoringly observed the marvel in front of her, literally stroking the flames at its top. It was majestic, standing about ten meters tall and seven meters wide.

"_So warm. Now that I look closely, the whole thing looks adorable and majestic at the same time. How is that even possible?"_

Enjoying the warmth the soul gave off, Mal lowered her spatial positioning, wrapping her arms around the middle of the flame, hugging it to her chest.

"Ahh, so warm…"

In truth, that was not warmth Mal was current feeling. It was something similar and not at the same time.

What Mal currently felt at the moment was not heat, but loyalty. Valerian's loyalty, to be exact.

The emotion simply translated into an unnameable form of heat as it became available to the human senses.

Mal gasped in satisfaction as she hugged the flame, feeling its splendid heat run through her body.

"_Truly, this is bliss. I might have just found a new addiction."_

Mal had just became addicted to loyalty, in the most literal sense. She realized this in her heart, but not in her mind.

After she had her fill of Valerian's warmth, Mal jumped off the soul she was hugging to her chest, distancing herself by a few feet.

"_He probably won't be surprised, but it's worth a try, right?"_

Thinking that, she translated her existence back into realspace.

In the materium, a miniature golden supernova exploded in Valerian's face, causing him to narrow his eyes due to the brightness. However, when the light disappeared and Mal was revealed, the custodian simply smiled.

The girl stretched her arms to her sides, the same benevolent smile on her lips.

"The mission was a success."

The custodian nodded, his smile hidden perfectly behind his expressionless helm. To think that his mistress could successfully awaken a long-lost Primarch less than a year after her birth. She was truly an incomparable genius.

Mal seemed to have perceived these thoughts and brightened her own smile in return.

"I gave Lion a few hours to hear what happened from his sons. After that, I promised him that I would answer any questions he had. Can you come with me then?"

Valerian nodded.

"Wherever you go, I will attempt to follow, my lady."

Mal sighed.

"Yeah, I need you to prove my identity. If you tell him directly what happened in the throne room when I first appeared, he might actually believe you."

The custodian frowned.

"Is the Primarch not aware of your identity?"

Mal shook her head.

"No, he's just suspicious of my claims. Lion remembers an Emperor who was just a man, and expected someone like me to be just an extremely powerful psyker. I was given my powers after the Emperor's ascendancy, and therefore have powers extremely correlated to religious beliefs."

Mal's face twitched.

"Basically, since Dad was a massive atheist, Lion doesn't believe me because I feel too religious to him."

Valerian's eyes had widened beneath his helm, noticing new information that was unknown to him.

"Ascendency?"

Mal covered her mouth as she noticed her mistake.

"_Oops."_

She looked apologetically at Valerian before stating,

"Sorry, I don't want to tell you too much about that until a few more of the Primarchs are recovered. You're trustworthy enough to reveal it to, but I don't want to tell it too many times. If any space marine chapters find out, then we're screwed."

Valerian barely understood anything Mal just said, but accepted that the information was classified, at least for now. With her promise to inform him later, the Custodes was temporarily satisfied. However, he still thought on and on about it.

Just what did Mal mean by the Emperor, "ascending"?

This was a question for another time, however, as he wished to ask for something else of his mistress.

"My lady, I felt a disturbance in my body a few seconds prior to our discussion. It felt as if I was being embraced."

He wanted to ask if any Daemonic entities had taken ahold of his soul. However, the sensations he felt back then were tender and gentle, benevolent to say the least. Still, some Daemons started off seeming as friendly and kind to their victims, only to show their true side later when they shed their disguise.

Despite the benevolent part of the sensation, Valierian knew that it was not natural. It was empyric in nature. Therefore, he began to suspect that powerful Daemons were in the area, able to affect even a Custodes. He was already clutching his spear with tense hands, ready to fight at any time.

Mal laughed nervously as she realized that Valierian knew what she did to him.

"W-What could you be talking about, Valierian?"

The custodian announced his conclusion once more with no hint of humor in his voice.

"I believe that this vessel is under Daemonic attack. We should prepare our defenses."

The right side of Mal's face threatened to shrink to the size of a raisin as she sighed.

"Nope, don't worry about it. That wasn't a Daemon, it was me. I _accidentally _bumped into your soul and hugged it. _Accidently_. A total accident."

Valerian opened his mouth in disbelief. To think that his theory was for naught. Sure he was relieved, but to mistake his mistress for filthy Warp-spawned Daemons. He berated himself in his mind. He surely needed more training.

Nodding in understanding, the custodian did not speak anymore.

Mal sighed again, this time in relief, as she managed to do exactly what she wanted.

Inside, she was ecstatic that she was actually able to wake a Primarch. There was almost nothing that could ruin her mood now.

After all, the restoration of the Primarchs would be the first step in securing the Emperor's happiness.

Mal smiled in self-praise for a few seconds before shaking her head gently.

"Yeah, there is no way Lion will react kindly to the news. I might have a challenge on my hands."

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There were two times in Lion's life when he felt anger which threatened to consume him like a blazing inferno. Two times when he could truly sympathize with what Angron felt all the time. The first was when Horus betrayed the Imperium, rebelling against the Emperor. The second was Luther's betrayal, shattering the great friendship the two had.

Now, Lion felt an anger that was just as great, if not more so than those times. How could he not?

The glorious empire his father had built was all but reduced to atoms, simple leftovers of a once-great civilization. Everything they once sought was destroyed, ever worthy aspect of humanity completely erased from existence.

Gone was learning and advancement, replaced with superstition and stagnation. Gone was chivalry and honor, dishonesty and treason taking their place.

In this so-called Imperium, there was no honor, no people to truly fight for. It was everything the Emperor sought to destroy.

Destiny also saw fit to punish Lion's father even more than it already had, making him the object of worship for countless trillions. Thus, the Emperor became one of the widest-worshipped deities in the galaxy, becoming a crystallization of his worst nightmares.

This was worse than the worst foreseeable situation. The Imperium of Man was like one of Nurgle's undead, risen to life in a bloated and hideous parody of its former self.

As the librarian explained the current state of things to Lion, the Primarch had to restrain himself from destroying everything in sight, such was the strength of his rage.

After pondering over the facts given to him in his room, Lion clutched his head with one hand, attempting to keep himself from falling into depression.

It was not easy, attempting to process that everything you have ever fought for has deteriorated to the point of zombification, but if there was any man who could deal with the emotions that came with it, they would be a Primarch.

Now, Lion waited for the one person who could possibly shed some actual light on the situation, the same person who woke him from his slumber.

Mal would have some answers to his questions, or so he hoped. She stated herself that her powers and existence was thanks to the machinations of the Emperor, which meant that He was still very much capable of actions even atop the Golden Throne.

At this point, Lion didn't even dare to think that Mal could be a false prophet of the Dark Gods anymore. He truly wanted to believe in her identity.

And so, the time finally came. The time when Mal appointed her return, the time when she would be back to answer all Lion's questions as she promised.

When that moment came, he waited for her in a grand hall, meant for praying for Dark Angels who inhabited Aldrukh.

The dark room, lit by dim plasma-torches, smelled of ritualistic incense and musk, appearing to be ominous and sinister. Dark pillars decorated with engravings and sculptures of hooded angels and dark portraits lined the walls, while a statue stood at the center of the room, sharply contrasting its surroundings.

A gold-engraved statue of the Emperor portrayed Him to be a stern warrior, much like the Lion. His face grim, the laurel-wearing monarch stared into the soul of anyone who would behold Him, His sword thrust into the ground, both his hands resting upon it.

It was a grim portrayal of the Emperor, but it was not entirely inaccurate.

As Lion stared into the statue's eyes, he thought,

"_What would you do if you were here to witness this? This defiled corpse they call an Imperium? I cannot even imagine it, father. I cannot even imagine the pain and sorrow you would feel."_

His head down, Lion turned away from the statue, avoiding the piercing eyes of his father.

"_However, even if the Imperium is a mere shadow of its former self, I am honor-bound to aid it. I took an oath all those years ago, and I shall keep it to the end."_

Lion made up his mind. He would go to Ultramar to converse with Roboute Guilliman. His brother was probably the only one in the galaxy who could offer him the direction and cause he needed to adopt. He needed to know just what was required of him now.

Imposing the Emperor's values on this new Imperium was not something that could be lightly done, not even if Lion was a Primarch. Religious indoctrination spanning ten thousand years would not be dispersed easily.

Preaching his beliefs was never Lion's strength anyway. That was something Lorgar would do… before he turned, of course….

However, Lion would do what he did best once his true purpose became clear. He would take up his mantle as the Dark Angels' leader once again and do the best he could for his gene-sons. What he should do for humanity as a whole remained unknown, but Lion's sons were right before him, waiting for him to lead them.

He would do his best in restoring his chapter to its former glory. This would probably prove to be impossible, but it was yet another thing Lion was honor-bound to do.

First of all, however, Lion would meet this newcomer and hear what they would have to say. It was better to conclude on his decision after confirmation from another somewhat reliable source.

Needless to say, that source was none other than the mysterious entity only known as Mal. Her answers would have to be taken with a grain of salt, but she proved to be overall trustworthy. Lion would personally deal with any betrayals that may or may not ensue, of course.

In a few minutes, the adamantium gate to the praying chamber was unlocked and opened, the well-oiled components moving easily without any unpleasant noise.

Through the open gate, two figures were revealed. Two contrasting figures, opposites in every conceivable way.

Male to female, grand to simple, short to tall, cloth to armor, pleasant to stern.

Indeed, it was Mal, who had come seeking an audience with Lion, just as she promised. However, she seemed to have brought someone else with her.

Lion simply acknowledged the custodian's presence, inferring instantly that the guardian was brought to affirm Mal's claims of being the Emperor's daughter. If the Custodes was with her, then it may as well be true.

Lion shook his head. He would cross that bridge when he got to it. Now, there were more important questions to ask.

Nodding to the golden-armored custodian, the Primarch acknowledged his presence, staring deep into his light blue eyes. The custodian was helmetless, revealing his blond hair for all to see.

Lion could swear that the Custodes's eyes narrowed in hostility, but that must have been his imagination.

He was still in his ceremonial robes, completely armorless. Unfortunately, his old gear had disappeared after his slumber, vanished to a place where only the Watchers knew.

Therefore, the Master of the Forge was currently pouring every fiber of his being into creating a suit worthy of his gene-father. Of course, it would not be ready in a mere ten hours.

Therefore, Lion's sons had protested his meeting with Mal, as he was alone and undefended. He was barely able to convince them to let him do this.

Therefore, Lion was thankful for the Custodian's presence. The Emperor's guardian made the Dark Angels shed some of their fear, as he symbolized the legitimacy of Mal's claims.

Honestly, the girl was clever in bringing him. Lion found himself believing in her claims more and more by the second.

Switching his gaze to Mal, Lion welcomed his guests.

"Mal, custodian."

Mal smiled, holding an upward thumb towards him.

"This is my personal bodyguard, Valerian Dominique Maximus Primus, Shield-Captain of the Adeptus Custodes."

The custodian nodded grudgingly in acknowledgment, completely silent. They had tried to take his weapon from him, completely failing until Mal spent a whole thirty minutes convincing him. He was still not even a good mood though.

A custodian as a personal bodyguard? Her claims could definitely not be questioned now. If an incorruptible Custodes submitted themselves to anyone, then they were definitely not touched by Chaos or any other malignant powers.

Lion answered.

"I see. Then it can be assumed that he is here to confirm your claims?"

She nodded.

"Yes. I won't try to hide it, because there is no point. If you don't believe him, just ask the Captain-General. Oh, its Trajann Valoris now. The one you knew is probably retired."

Lion nodded.

"I see. Then, Captain Primus, could you perhaps describe to me the moment when her identity was confirmed?"

Mal looked to Valierian in expectation as he spoke. He would explain the events he saw in clear detail, leaving no room for doubt.

And so, the explanation began, Lion listening aptly to every word. Every single bit of information was important now, and a shocking amount of his pride had been forsaken.

When Valerian's tale was finished, told in a tone that was intolerant of lies and deceit, Lion's eyes were wide.

There was no possibility of a custodian mistaking the Emperor's words for anyone else's. They were arguably better at sorting out lies involving their liege than the Primarchs themselves.

Therefore, Lion could not doubt anymore, as it would only be pointless paranoia. No, it would seem that Mal's claims were genuine, even if borderline inconceivable.

Then that would mean she truly was the Emperor's daughter, and that she had come for him on the orders of his father.

Therefore, the news of his imprisonment on the Golden Throne wasn't fully accurate.

This gave Lion hope, as he realized that if his father was truly active and sending his agents throughout the imperium, then there was a chance for humanity yet, for if there was anyone who could defeat the Dark powers, it was the Emperor.

However, now was the time for talk, not thought, as Lion noticed when he was pulled back into reality by Mal's voice.

"Now, I do believe that I told you that I would answer any of your questions. Well then, let it be known that I always keep my word to my friends. Ask away, Lion. I know you're probably confused about this whole situation."

Valerian was impassive during this, his expression calm and emotionless.

"I see. Then I will cease with formalities."

He narrowed his eyes at Mal, as if scrutinizing her entire existence. He had previously thought that he would ask of matters concerning the Imperium first, but he changed his mind. It would be better to establish some measure of trust with Mal first, as to solidify their relationship more. Of course, this meant that he needed to know more about her, as they may need to work together in the future.

"I have already accepted that most of your claims are truthful, that you are indeed an agent sent by my father, and that his power flows through your veins."

Lion furrowed his brows.

"However, even if that is the case, just what are you? Just how did father create a being like yourself?"

This was a natural question for Lion to ask, as the aura shown earlier by Mal was almost exactly the same as the Emperor's when he was still healthy and well, albeit weaker. However, it had more of a divine tinge to it, a sensation indescribable in any human language. He could feel something akin to religion radiating from her.

Lion had never understood the Emperor-worshipping heathens that sprung up during his time in the Imperium, believing them too weak to see his father for who he really was, an extremely powerful man, not a god.

The weak would gather around and swear absolute loyalty to the Emperor as soon as he made an appearance, drowning in his radiance, unable to penetrate deeply enough into the debts of His aura to truly see what He really was.

However, Lion was never like that, as his keen senses picked up on something through all the thick, golden, faith-inducing miasma, something that spoke of reason and enlightenment, and not blind faith in any way shape or form. It was one of the reasons he admired the Emperor, as the fact that such a god-like being could be so un-godlike was perhaps the greatest of achievements.

However, as Lion looked upon Mal's revealed self, her golden aura intruding upon his senses, he felt what those weaklings felt, and he could see what they saw. He saw the being his father could have been, albeit a lot weaker.

Everything about Mal's aura, from the outside to the inside, practically screamed of faith. Lion could hear the angelic hymns sung by unnamed saints when he first encountered it. There was no inner layer to that aura. It was honest, not hiding anything from those who perceived it.

Mal was truly a being of faith, and the scared Lion. No doubt, she was something of a fanatic, and that was something that would deal more harm to the Imperium than good.

The girl smiled at his question, almost as if she could hear his thoughts.

"Well, it's pretty complicated, to the point where I don't know myself. It would appear that I was created based on the same template as the Primarchs, but drastically changed. I only have one more organ than most humans, and my body is just incredibly strong, much more so than a regular person's. Something was also done to bind me to Dad, I think. I don't know what he did, but it seems to have worked."

Lion took in this answer, half-deciphering it.

"I see. Then, what of father's state? The Librarian has informed me of his current situation on the throne, but I doubt that is the whole of it. If you are truly sent by him, then he is nowhere as powerless as others may think."

Normally, Lion could be quite introverted, but the circumstances called for a conversation, and a conversation was what he had to engage in.

Mal frowned.

"Now, that's a difficult question, one I would like to tell at a gathering of three or four Primarchs. Personally, I don't think I should go into detail on it for security reasons. You know, this information could cause a civil war if any space marine chapters heard of it. However, I'll tell you what I can."

Lion furrowed his eyebrows, but nodded in understanding. While he disagreed with part of Mal's statement, he would argue against it later. Forcing a confrontation here would be severely disadvantageous for him.

"I see. Then tell me what you know."

Meanwhile, Vaierian seemed to be shuddering in anger while he listened to the conversation, angered by the Lion's insensitive and brash questions. Mal did not mind it at all, so he held himself back.

"Alright then. Just know that our father is currently more powerful than you can possibly imagine, and that humanity's situation isn't nearly as bleak as most would think. In fact, we're probably one of the most successful powers in the galaxy right now."

Lion let out an uncharacteristic snort at this.

"The Imperium is in a state of ruin, with filth pillaging it from both inside and outside. How can this nightmarish hellhole possibly be as grand as you say it is? I have not even experienced the current state of things for myself, and I am already rendered speechless at it all."

Mal grinned.

"That's just the problem with everyone in the 42th millennium, isn't it? From the civilians to the Primarchs, all of you can only see what's bad about it all. Konrad was probably the worst case, but that doesn't mean you guys are that much better either. Jeez, just try to see the good in things!"

Lion bristled at this. It was not intended as an insult, but he still had to restrain himself from tearing out Mal's throat this moment. To compare him to Konrad Curze, the weakling. Such an insult was near unforgivable.

Mal noticed Lion's snarling face and sighed, her hands forming a placating gesture.

"Look, I don't mean to offend, but I'll be honest. I try my best not to sugarcoat things too much, as that always to do more harm than good. Now, think about it, Lion. Can you truly say that my words are illogical?"

Lion pursed his lips.

Images of the Imperials recklessly and pointlessly fighting each other, sacrificing precious, unreplaceable war machines, and killing valuable citizens for no good reason flashed through his head.

His tone became slightly aggressive.

"Tell me, _sister_, is there truly hope for humanity in this situation?! The Emperor's entire cause has been butchered, transformed into a nightmarish parody of its former self! His entire being is currently being desecrated by _trillions _at this very moment, every single one of His aspirations for humanity burned and scattered to the wind! Tell me, just where do you see this 'good' you speak of?!"

Mal slapped her head. Her voice became husk-like and tired.

"That's just the whole problem, isn't it? You so-called sensible guys are all doing this, obsessing and raging over the oh-so-bad state of things. The worst part is that you're actually better than your overly-zealous counterparts, who believe that humanity is invincible and that we can triumph over every threat in the galaxy with our current power. Honestly, I don't even want to think about it, so just think on the things I am about to tell you."

She spread her arms out, gesturing to everything around her, trying to make Lion understand her words.

"Yes, the Imperium is a crappy hellhole where learning and advancement barely exists, needless death runs rampant. A place crazy bureaucrats and extra-edgy Inquisitors keep messing up everything they can."

Mal smiled.

"But you know what else? The Imperium spans a million worlds. There are trillions of guardsmen, some of the bravest and most battle-hardened men and women in the galaxy. We have a multitude of space marines, each worth a thousand men if deployed correctly. The Mechanicus's combined firepower could atomize a whole star system, and they have access to technology that has the ability to exploit the laws of physics to its maximum."

She stepped closer to Lion, pointing at him.

"But that's not all, Lion, because we have you, you and your brothers. Ridiculously overpowered superhuman powerhouses that can level continents with their bare hands and put the processing speeds of supercomputers to shame. Haven't you heard? Rouboute Guilliman has risen already, launched a gigantic crusade, and became the pseudo-ruler of the Imperium. He even has Dad's sword!"

Lion simply nodded before waiting patiently again, completely out of character once more. He was far too distraught to actually engage in a conflict right now. Whether Mal knew it or not, now was actually the best possible time to speak to him like this.

"And you know what? You're not the first one I'm going to bring back. Leman, Vulkan, Jaghatai, Corvus. I'm going to do my best to bring them all back so we can fight back the threats against humanity!"

Mal raised her voice further.

"So don't you dare be depressed about this! There's still a lot of hope for humanity, and you need to see that! If you don't have hope then you will fail in whatever you do!"

Lion narrowed his eyes as Mal continued.

"Don't stress over what we don't have currently have, Lion. That's my job. Just use every weapon at our disposal, and perform to the best of your ability using them. Just never lose your hope, because that will truly lead to your end."

Lion leaned forward in aggressive curiosity.

"How do you know this?"

Mal stared deep into his eyes, warmly accepting Lion's inquisitive gaze without resistance.

"Because Dad has taught me simple logic, and designated this specific message for all Primarchs who are in a state of depression. Our enemies are rising, Lion, which means you have to put a hundred and ten percent into your duties. You can't do that if you're not hopeful. I know that you haven't given up yet, but your morale is looking dangerously low."

Her voice became more cheerful as the hint of another smile reached her lips.

"Besides, you are my brother. Even if we don't consider the state of the Imperium, it is still my job as a little sister to brighten your day. Happiness is something rare in this dreadful galaxy, so I want my siblings to have at least a bit of it."

Lion stepped back, his eyes widened. There were no lies from Mal's eyes, nor was there any hesitation when she spoke. All of those words came from her heart, devoid of any sugarcoating or falsity.

However, just the notion that Mal would believe in something like happiness put a frown on Lion's face. She was far too naive. The compassion she had for him was completely unfounded and unreturned, as he could not bring himself to accept the near-stranger in front of him. Although, there seemed to be a part in his soul that said otherwise...

Even when he stood with a perfect poker face, Mal was somehow able to sense what Lion was thinking.

"Let me guess, you're thinking that I'm too naive, that joy doesn't exist, or something like that. Well, that's natural. I don't even have to read your mind to know that. And you know what? You're probably right!"

Mal chuckled.

"Well, we've gotten off-topic. Now then, Lion. I am about to ask something of you. Is that ok?"

Lion almost snarled in rage as he restrained his furiously shaking body. There was simply no respect in this girl, was there?

"You swore that you would be the one to answer _my _questions."

Mal sighed.

"Yes yes yes, all in due time. However, this is very important, and you probably want to do it too, so why not take the opportunity?"

Lion took a deep breath. If this was him ten thousand years ago, then the girl would not be breathing, custodian or not. However, the things he has learned recently had caused him to do some serious reflection, as the Heresy would not have been nearly as bad had he done his job in better ways. The man known as lion El'Jonson had finally matured a little in this long period of time.

"Very well. Let us hear this proposal of yours."

Mal smiled in triumph.

"Would you like to come with me to Terra? You should probably meet the Imperium's current leaders."

The custodian nodded, as if he expected this. Lion, however, snarled again at the strange proposal.

"I shall arrive on Terra under my own terms, under my own authority. I do not see any benefits in traveling there with _you_."

Mal was completely undeterred, providing information that made her request more appealing.

"I can make the trip quick and easy. It'll take less than a month to reach our destination, I swear on my soul."

Mal made the Aquila sign on her heart to solidify her oath.

Lion looked to Valerian, as if asking him to confirm Mal's claims. The custodian curtly nodded.

"I see. There is no doubting the acuteness of your claims now that a Custodes has supported you. However, it would appear to me that speaking with Guilliman on Maccrage would have more merit than entertaining the ridiculous whims of politicians on Terra."

Mal smirked.

"Would you rather speak to Papa Smurf and get together for a touching bromance, or speak to the Emperor of Mankind and gain a divine revelation? Your choice, really."

Lion's eyes widened.

"Father has the ability to communicate on the Golden Throne?!"

Mal nodded solemnly, her cheerful expression gone. For some reason, Lion wanted to frown at this. Had he actually taken a liking to her smile? The Primarch denied the thought, instead blaming the urge on the almost threatening aura Mal currently gave of.

Her voice came out cold and frost-inducing, thousands of times more chilling than even the freezing winds of Valhalla. However, there seemed to be protectives emotions in it.

"However, do try your best to keep the conversation short. Know that for every nanosecond he speaks to you, a grand pain so great that it is utterly incomprehensible to the human mind assaults him. Talk for more than three minutes, and I will not be able to hold myself back from doing something I would rather regret."

Surprisingly, this threat did little to anger the Lion. In fact, he thought better of the girl now. The Primarch did not know exactly why he thought so, and did not dwell on it. However, if he were to take a guess, then his lack of anger would be thanks to the sheer protectiveness she had for the Emperor. It seemed to resound with something inside of him.

"I see. Then it is extremly strenuous for Father to communicate. Still, I shall set sail for Terra, for three minutes with the Emperor is worth three thousand lifetimes with any other man. I will take you up on your offer, Mal."

He had not forgiven her for the rudeness she displayed, but Lion respected Mal for her compassion for the Emperor. While he fought for his gene-sire's ideals, he did have some measure of feelings for Him, even if they were minuscule.

Mal nodded.

"Then, Lion. Let us depart as soon as we can. Prepare an honor-guard if you must, but please be quick about it."

Sighing to restrain another bout of anger at Mal's brash words, Lion decided to just ignore her rudeness. She did not seem to intentionally be disrespectful, so it would be needlessly confrontational to treat her as if she did.

Still, that did not mean he could just leave right now. His wargear needed to be prepared.

"I will assemble an honor guard as soon as I can. However, my armor and weapons are currently being prepared. It would take months for them to be finished."

Mal's eye twitched.

"How many months?"

"At least six, perhaps ten. Before you ask, there is no action I can take to convince my Chapter to allow me to travel unarmored and insufficiently armed."

Lion was now calm. He did not think of the person before him as an equal. However, he could finally talk to her without being offended constantly. Besides, the daring statements and attitude she took with him were refreshing after centuries of formality and traditional, almost ritualistic communication styles. Lion would never admit it, but this change of pace was pleasant for him.

Mal sighed before cupping her face with her hands.

"Ten months. _Ten Frakking months!_ Why is everything so slow here?! I know that everyone can live up to more than five centuries, but aren't you taking your time a little too much?!"

Lion remained silent. He looked at Mal's antics from a new perspective and did not mind them much anymore. That, of course, did not mean that he would entertain them. They made Mal seem childish, and in Lion's mind, she was.

"Oh, fine! Fine, I'll wait for you! Let us meet on this day of the month exactly ten months later! I'll be going for now!"

Mal suddenly looked up, all anger lost. It would appear that she remembered something.

"Oh, and tell your ecstatic techmarine to not work too hard on the sword. Cypher has it, so I'll try to see if he'll give it back. It's broken, but with the right materials, restoration shouldn't be impossible."

Lion became slightly more serious as he nodded sternly. He had no idea who this 'Cypher' was, but he recognized the title. Just another question he would ask his self-proclaimed sister later.

Mal gave a mock bow as she gestured for her custodian to follow her.

Her naive expression suddenly became more experienced all of a sudden as she spoke again.

"Sorry for my rude antics. It's just the way I am, hope you don't mind. Just know that while I don't love you as a brother just yet, I would still give my life for you, as you're the Emperor's son. The Primarchs are my second most prominent priority, never forget that."

Lion remained silent as Mal walked for the exit. It would seem that he had found a trustworthy ally.

Giving a rare smile, the Primarch looked to the ceiling, as if looking for his father.

"_So you have not truly abandoned us. Very well then, as your son, I shall live up to your example and pour every last drop of my power into rebuilding and protecting the Imperium. The civilization you created deserves no less."_

Suddenly, just as Mal was able to reach the door, she stopped, speaking quietly without looking back.

"Oh, and about you giving Perturabo those weapons..."

Lion's smile froze as his blood chilled. He entertained the thought of strangeling Mal for a microsecond. Even Guilliman was unable to find out about that particular incident so how could…

Of course, his father must have told her. Lion shivered just a little, and a dribble of sweat dripped down his back. If his father knew, then...

The voice became more kind as the girl continued to walk.

"Don't worry about it. Dad forgave you a long time ago. Our brothers would definitely distrust and persecute you for it, but I respect your genuine wish to help the Imperium. Just remember that the poison of arrogance can ruin whole empires, and those who are already consumed by the sensation will always deny its existence, even when everything and everyone they love are hopelessly consumed by their own deficiencies."

Her voice became a drifting whisper as she exited the room.

"So if someone like Dad wasn't safe from the clutches of arrogance... then no one is. Not even his sons."

With one more stern expression, Mal stared into the Lion's eyes one more time, her own orbs flaring with a dark orange light.

"_**Especially not his sons."**_


	13. Just in Time

**Well, I've been reading up on 40k lore, and I have to say that I'm glad that I didn't write too much yet.**

**Turns out that everyone is much more overpowered than I was going to make them.**

**And I thought they were powerful already! Jeez!**

**Also, I kind of improved my writing a little. Probably not by much, but be sure to give criticism.**

Ten months. She had to wait a whole _Ten Frakking Months!_

Mal groaned out loud as her hand unconsciously slapped her silken face.

Valerian was beside her, attempting to placate the girl with nothing but his presence alone, which was clearly not effective.

Slightly snarling, Mal sat up from the bed in her spacecraft, the same one she commandeered from Captain-General Trajann Valoris.

"Alright then! Screw this! It won't take ten months for us to go to a planet and wipe out some orks, right?! Valerian, wanna go?"

Valerian sighed in exasperation. Is mistress was too brash for her own good. Even if she could wipe all alien life off a whole planet, it was by no means an easy or clever course of action.

"My lady, I would follow you into the Eye of Terror if needed, but please restrain your senseless urges. I would not be able to protect you against the _millions_ of Orks on one of those worlds you speak of even if I trained for a hundred centuries."

Mal frowned.

"Hmm… That would be a problem."

Valerian sighed in relief, glad that his mistress saw sense in the situation.

"Yes, you would certainly not survive against a planet full of rampaging Orks, even if I were to do everything in my power to protect you. Forgive my careless ideas, Valerian. Instead, let's go to a planet that is being attacked and support the Guardsmen or PDF stationed there. You can act as a military leader while I decimate enemy forces with AOE spells. It will be perfect."

The custodian was speechless, his jaw refusing to close. It was only the strict discipline and brutal training of the Emperor's bodyguards that prevented him from dropping his paragon spear in shock. Mal had taken his statement in the wrongest way possible.

Somehow, she still had entertained the notion that it was her duty to protect _him. Him, _the ten-thousand-year-old Custodes that was literally told by the Emperor, to his face, that his duty was to protect her with his life.

The hilarity of the situation was lost on Valerian as he became even more insecure than before, thinking himself almost incapable to do his duty. However, he did not say anything about this, as nothing Mal said could really be refuted with any facts the custodian had at his disposal.

"Y-yes, my lady."

The girl smiled as she rose from her bed, still dressed in extra-pretty civilian clothes.

_I know I said that, but what if they have some sort of secret weapon? If they can restrict my access to the Warp, then I might be screwed._

Mal sighed.

"Well, it will take me a month to get ready for such a thing. We'll wait a while before jumping into any conflicts."

Valerian did not know what Mal would need to do to get ready for fighting, but he did not question it. He was just glad that his mistress would not jump into anything without preparation. Then again, she was a genius, so maybe the entire conversation was simply the girl's way of probing the custodian's intellect?

If that was true, then he had truly underestimated his mistress.

Valerian could only sigh as he understood the complexity of the woman he served.

"_If only she did not obscure so much from me, I may someday be able to understand her brillient mind."_

Somehow, an even greater misunderstanding formed as Mal thought of futile and childish attack plans.

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A few weeks later, Mal had attempted to invent new technology, one of the duties the Emperor assigned her. However, currently, this new invention would benefit her and her only. In the future, they may be used by those with extremely special powers, but not now.

Glasses on, the girl closed her eyes, reaching deep down into her own psyche like a diver into the sea.

Mal thought of joy, of justice, and especially of love.

She concentrated her memories back in the Warp with her father, focusing them in a single orb of emotional energy.

Unconsciously, the girl smiled as she remembered all the happiness she felt back then. However, that smile instantly turned to a frown as she remembered her duties, and just what she was asked to do.

Mal gathered all the emotions she felt back then, concentrating on them to an unbelievable degree.

It got to the point where she could feel herself reliving them in exact detail. Every heartbeat, every coffee spill, every injury she received in training.

Of course, this information was always open to Mal, as her mental processing and memory could rival that of the Primarchs themselves. However, she chose not to make her memories too easily accessible just yet. The girl knew that she was not ready for something like that, so she had to train more. However, this was a special occasion.

Mal made herself feel those exact emotions once more by reliving them, the process of doing so akin to that of a copy machine.

Pulling the emotions' unrefined, ethereal forms from the Warp, Mal shoved all of them into her own body.

She opened up her soul, granting entrance to the strong feelings of absolute joy that she had just copied from her own memories, allowing them to flow through her physical form like electricity in a current.

Mal wasn't sure when she began singing, but it was not in any language that she could recognize. The words did not even sound like they could be made by the human mouth. However, the girl found herself able to understand every unnatural word she sang, every syllable carrying the weight of several emotions.

She had also seemed to have started dancing, moving with an odd grace, although the moves were not something any sane person would have enacted. Even so, her singing was strangely beautiful, yet eerie at the same time. Every word she uttered was melodic, but unnatural.

Smiling, Mal realized what this all was.

The concentrated feelings of joy and daughterly love collected inside of Mal were currently moving inside of her, translating itself using her body as a medium. This particular energy could not be kept in one form or space, akin to specific components of air.

That was what the song and dance were. Translations of joy.

The girl grinned while her body continued to twirl gracefully, prepared for the next step.

Now that her body was acting as a medium for the emotions she copied from her own memories, Mal loosened the connection with the Warp in the realspace in front of her, creating something akin to a portal.

Pouring the emotions inside of her own body into the Warp rift, Mal could feel the joy and love slowly leaving her body, being directly transferred to the immaterium, and translated into solid matter there.

Smiling, Mal finalized the process, tearing the portal even wider. Continuing to send her emotions in, the girl continued to sing. However, the next step had begun, clearly shown as a bright, light gold liquid seemed to flow out of the rift.

Shining brightly even in a dimly-lit room, the strange liquid seemed to be some sort of molten metal, not radiating any heat whatsoever despite its appearance. In fact, it was a perfect combination of warm and cold, seeming to comfort anyone who even laid eyes on it.

The molten metal seemed to be alive, gracefully flowing through the air, completely ignoring the laws of gravity.

As Mal continued to pour her emotions into the portal, a steady stream of the substance came out, following the movements of her dance, eventually forming a perfect circle around her, akin to the ring of Saturn. The liquids bubbled merrily, as if awaiting the orders of some benevolent master.

Mal continued to pour her emotions into the Warp rift for a whole minute, translating them into a continuous stream until they ran out.

When they finally did, the girl's singing stopped, which also meant that the cheerful flowing and bubbling of the liquid metal had too.

In an instant, the Warp rift closed, leaving nothing in its wake. In response to this, the light yellow metal cooled and hardened, becoming many times more sturdy and lighter than adamantium. Succumbing to the laws of gravity, it fell to the ground with a light clang, as it was ridiculous lightweight.

Mal hummed in appreciation as she congratulated herself inside.

"_Yes! I actually did it! I actually made my emotions into a solid substance! Hah! Suck on these, Bonesingers!"_

Indeed, the material Mal had just summoned into creation was a parody of the Eldar's own wraithbone.

One day, she suddenly asked what exactly the Emperor used to build everything in his territory. His answer was this:

"I simply copied a thing or two from the Eldar. It's a lot more simple than you would think. You just have to do this…"

He proceeded to give Mal instructions on how to make the substance.

The material the Aledari used to make their favored plastic-like material was their own emotions.

Their bonesingers trained themselves to feel a plethora of controlled emotions that they could translate it into realspace as a material stronger than adamantium.

However, those emotions were heavily restricted, as anything too vibrant would attract the attention of Slannesh and her consorts.

Wraithbone, a mixed cocktail of all emotions, was an extremely potent and enduring substance honed by Eldar bonesingers for millennia. It was the most common building material used by the Eldar Empire. The creation of this substance was also a method for the Eldar to express themselves, even in the face of Slannesh.

New improvements to the material have not been made since few people wanted to risk exploring too deep into the depths of the Warp and have their soul devoured. Some tried, but needless to say, they failed. In fact, they failed so hard that their names were permanently erased from Craftworld history so no one else would repeat their mistakes.

Mal, however, did not need to consider drawing the attention of any of the Warp deities, meaning that she could increase the potency of her emotions however she wished.

Why, do you ask? Well, actually, there was a reason to fear, even if it was small. Still, the risks were minimal. Besides, there was a different way to create wraithbone. A way that was arguably better than the Eldar's.

Gulping, the girl's eye began twitching in fear.

"_Come to think of it, didn't Tzeench tell me that the Warp gods are interested in me?"_

She sighed.

"_Well, it was to be expected, but I didn't think that we would establish contact this soon. No use crying over spilled milk, I guess I just have to deal with it."_

Yes, Mal was currently the target of interest for all the Chaos Gods, and possibly the Ork ones too.

Needless to say, this was not good in any way imaginable, but nothing could be done. For someone as powerful and potentially influential as Mal, laying low was completely impossible.

In fact, she did not even consider the fact that she would be left alone.

Mal shrugged.

Since nothing could be done about the situation, it was better to think of more important things for now.

Eyeing the solidified ring of bright-yellow metal around her, Mal concentrated on its shape, using her telekinetic powers to lift the material off the ground.

Focusing on the shape of the metal, her breathing became even and smooth, expression calm and tranquil. Mal simply could not spare the effort for anything other than her current task.

Instantly, the metal liquified once more, flowing in a watery state and circling around Mal.

Holding out her arms, the girl pictured a rudimentary design in her mind, sending out the information into the golden metal.

Suddenly, a part of the steady molten stream separated from the whole body, beginning to gain shape in a corner of the room. Several more gallons of the material met the same fate, all shaped into separate pieces.

The first portion morphed itself slowly into a long buttoned trenchcoat, the buttons a darker shade of gold than the rest of the outfit. A sash was formed to attach its bottom half to the waist.

Another portion became shaped as a simple long-sleeved undershirt, thin and incredibly flexible.

A blob of gold formed into simple straight pants with an unremarkable belt around it.

A pair of thick protective boots were formed, simply pieces of golden material molded into a surprisingly comfortable shape.

Finally, a small blob of gold formed two latex-like gloves, fitting perfectly on Mal's hands.

The girl wiped off a drop of sweat off of her forehead as she looked at her handiwork, satisfied.

"_Well, it's not much, but I'm not a fashion designer. I can't put intricate patterns on these clothes yet. That takes a degree of control that I just don't have at this point in time. Even so, they should be effective and comfortable enough. It's good enough for now."_

Thinking this, Mal opened up a portal to her Warp storage, using her mind to shove the leftover golden metal through it. The wraithbone-like construct would not change too much when introduced to the Warp once more, making it viable to be stored in there.

"_I'll use that later to make weapons or something. Yeah, I have no idea how a force-sword even works, so I'll have to work on that."_

Closing the portal and turning to the new clothes she just made for herself.

"_Guess I'll put those on. Let's strip."_

Mal then took off her clothes, only to notice something she had forgotten to think of.

"_Oh crap… I forgot to make underwear. Right, gotta do that real quick."_

Wearing regular cloth underwear when fighting Ork Warbosses and Chaos Sorcerers? That was an obvious idiotic thing to do in any situation.

Slapping her face with a hand, Mal opened the portal which leads to her storage once again, quickly dragging two blobs of her wraithbone through.

The first shaped itself into a bra, unconnected straps waiting to be tied together to secure its placement. Mal's skills were nowhere near the level where she could make something like intricate hooks.

The second piece of material transformed into innocent, regular panties you could find anywhere in the twenty-first century. Mal was particularly relieved at this, as the panties she had been given were strange and medieval, attached to some sort of strange belt. She may have gotten used to it, but it was by no means comfortable.

Now that her underwear was ready, the girl closed her portal one more time as she changed into her new outfit.

"_Jeez, why wouldn't Dad just make me a pair? I didn't even have any on when I first came here. Somehow, no one was able to notice it."_

Mal was not made with the option of reproduction, so there were no eggs in her ovaries. This means that her menstrual cycle does not exist. Of course, she loved this fact.

She was perfectly fine with this, as the girl never really understood the commotion for blood-children. Back in her original world, Mal had never thought that much about reproduction, as she did not see anyone in the world as a possible partner. This got worse when the Emperor started giving her biology lessons, which were extremely detailed and emotionally unbiased. This caused the girl to be disillusioned at many things any other human would find to be momentous and sacred.

She was especially disappointed in the emotion known as sexual love, something often stressed about and romanticized in her old world. In the end, it wasn't that big a deal, just a series of chemical reactions in the brain, no different than the change in wheat dough after an hour in the oven. Of course, the reactions of the soul were far more intricate, but that was a subject for another day.

Still, Mal was human, so she did not find these emotions unnecessary or overrated. However, she has knowledge of what causes them, and exactly how to take advantage of each one in a multitude of ways. Nothing is sacred, basic human biology proved that point perfectly.

Even if she did not need the specific tools to take care of menstrual cycles, showers were still a necessity, as Mal had not been made with the specialized cleansing sweat glands that some Astartes possessed. Therefore, that meant that she needed water to bathe in. Luckily, that wasn't a problem. The ship she was currently in had some soap in stock, even if it was made from some sort of unidentifiable material. In the end, the cleaning materials worked, so there was no need to fret too much, even if they smelled as artificial as they did.

It was a shame Mal did not have any form of perfume on her. A high-ranked figure must appeal to all the senses. Not only should they look the part, but the aroma from their bodies must fit their roles as well. Unfortunately, Mal did not have that aspect covered at this point in time.

Putting on her clothes and discarding her old set, Mal decided to deal with this issue at a later time. There were more important things to do at the moment. A matter as small as a choice of perfume could be settled at a later date.

Now, fully suited, she was ready to depart.

"_Hmm, let's see what I can do. Hopefully, this'll improve my reputation just a bit."_

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Nathan was completely and utterly screwed. There was simply no other explanation for his current situation than that.

After all, what else could be said of a situation that entailed being on the frontlines against a horde of rampaging greenskins?

As Nathan felt the shaking tremors emitted by the greenskins' stomping and shouting, eardrums threatening to burst from all the noise piercing through his helmet, he gritted his teeth.

Like hell his pathetic flak armor could stop a shot from one of those hulking, bulky miniature grenade launchers that the Orks called "shootas". And there was just nothing to be said about those massive and impractical weapons that they called "choppas". Dull or not, they could kill a man in a mere half-swing in the hand of a war-fuelled monstrosity that could easily shatter solid blocks of ferrocrete with their bare hands.

However, even when he knew that there was no possible chance of him living, Nathan continued to shoot his lasgun with vigor from the trenches. He still whispered wrathful prayers even when the greenskin horde seemed to flood down the battlefield like water down a river.

Was it the wrathful glare of the commissar that compelled this bravery in him? Or perhaps it the self-sacrificial influence of the Kriegans fighting beside him? Maybe it was the flaccid resolve to go out with a bang?

No, what powered Nathan's spirit was none of these things, for he was a proud member of the 410th Cadian Regiment, a survivor of the destruction of Cadia. He would not fall into despair, no matter what the galaxy threw at him. The Emperor demanded no less, and He would not find him wanting.

Further invigorated by his silent prayers, Nathan felt a burst of adrenaline as he shot at the Orks before him with renewed vigor. Truly, he could be mistaken for a Kriegan guardsman that day, resigned to his death, unwilling to fall until the enemy fell with him.

However, even as the thunderous booms of mortar fire rang out behind him, the guardsman saw no hope. Even with the Imperial Guard's vastly superior firepower, they still lost greatly in the numbers department. It was a thin line of men against a sea of greenskins.

Normally, this situation would have called for a tactical withdrawal, whether the Kriegans liked it or not. However, they were currently defending an evacuating Hive City, so there was no such option. If the guardsmen's lines faltered, then millions or billions of innocent men, women, and children would be slaughtered by the Ork horde.

"_Damn that stubborn governor!"_

Nathan thought this as his lasgun continued its barrage of deadly discharges, cursing the name of the man who orchestrated this whole mess.

The planetary governor of Kilenar had refused to evacuate the citizens of Logus Hive, confident in the prowess of the PDF forces stationed on the world. Even when it was revealed that the greenskins numbered in the billions and that only five guardsmen regiments were deployed to the planet thanks to an underestimation of the enemy's numbers, the foolish governor still called the PDF to hold their ground, refusing to evacuate the Hive due to stubborn pride.

Now, when everything seemed lost, when Orks were about to gush into the Hive's entrance like water down a frakking sewage pipe, what does he do?

With a small contingent of bodyguards, the sniveling coward had immediately escaped to his space station, determined to wait out the storm. Without further orders from the governor, the general had called for an immediate evacuation of the hive, putting all of the men left under his command under one last hopeless stand against the greenskin tide. Of course, the underhive was left alone, as no one cared about the scum living there.

However, it was too late. Just a day after the evacuation order was announced, an Ork horde was spotted heading towards the hive, forcing every able-bodied man and woman to take up any spare arms the guardsmen still had under their disposal. Some were just armed with crude factory tools, barely able to cause significant damage to a regular man. They might as well have been fighting buck naked when facing greenskins.

That lead to the current situation, Kriegan and Cadian regiments fighting side by side in their trenches, terrified but resolved citizens and PDF troops alongside them.

There would be no reinforcements, no victory, no recognition. It would not be like the propaganda the Imperial Guard told their aspiring recruits. There would be no Astartes descending from the air like angels of vengeance, nor would the Sisters of Battle arrive, cleansing their enemies in jets of holy fire.

Nathan and his regiments were completely alone, and he was strangely fine with that.

Gritting his teeth as the greenskins moved closer to his location, the soldier began to shoot his lasgun one-handed, showing off muscles earned in years of service. It didn't really matter that his aim was ruined by the action, as the Orks were so numerous that Nathan's fire would hit them no matter where he aimed.

In regular warfare, the section between the trenches of two opposing fronts was known as the "no man's land", as anyone who was foolish enough to charge forward would find their entire body torn to shreds by the enemy artillery and arms fire.

However, when dealing with Orks, the so-called "no man's land" would turn into a massive gathering of the greenskins, as they had no fear of death. Completely ignoring logic and strategy, the rampaging horde of feral xenos charged forward against an unrelenting barrage of scorching ruby light, as if ignorant of their own deceased brethren.

The worst part of this barbaric method of warfare? It was actually working. The numbers of the Orks were so high that the mortars would probably run out of ammunition before half of them died. Then again, a severely understocked and outnumbered Imperial Guard force was not supposed to take on this many greenskins anyways, so the result was to be expected.

With his free hand, Nathan reached for his trusty combat knife, pulling it out of its leather sheath.

The guardsman could imagine the gleam of sunlight reflecting off the monomolecular blade as he readied it in a reverse grip. Smiling, Nathan took up a combat stance, firing all the while.

"_Bring it you fething greenskins! I'll kill ten of ya before I go down!" _

"Fix Bayonets!"

As the Orks closed the distance between them and the guardsmen, signaled by the increasing volume and vibrations generated, the commissar gave the order to fix bayonets. Hopefully, the man wasn't suggesting that they fight the Orks in the trenches. There were few guardsmen with shotguns, and fighting greenskins single-file was never a good idea.

Not looking back, Nathan could feel the tension in the air. His commander was probably about to order a charge out of their trenches soon. If the Orks got too close, then a melee brawl would be the only option under disposal, however disadvantageous it may be. In that case, it would be best to take the initiative, taking out as many greenskins as possible before they were overwhelmed.

Throwing his knife several meters into the air, Nathan stopped firing for less than three seconds to attach his bayonet. Once that was done, he resumed shooting, snatching his combat knife out of the air in an almost absentminded gesture. What could he say? Practice makes perfect.

The man's lips curled into a bloodthirsty grin, eager for the charge that would put an abrupt end to his tale. Such was the life of a guardsman, and as a proud Cadian, Nathan had no complaints.

"_I'm ready any day, commander. Just give the signal"_

As the first words of the order sounded from the commander's mouth, Nathan's leg muscles tensed with energy, ready to boost him out of his trench in a mere heartbeat.

At that moment, a light shone in the eyes of Nathan and every other member of his regiment. A bright glint of resolve shone in the eyes of ten-thousand men as they prepared to sacrifice their lives for the citizens behind them.

"_The Commissar's eyes must be burning like bonfires right now."_

Chuckling at the last source of humor that he would have access to in this life, Nathan felt goosebumps forming on his skin, sweat dripping from every pore of his body. He was just too excited.

The commissar spoke, invigorating the hearts of his men.

"Sons and daughters of Cadia! We are overwhelmed by the foul greenskins who seek to defile the holy domain of the God-Emperor! There will be no reinforcements coming for us, no option of retreat! Today, we will die! Today, we will fall!"

The man's voice became louder as he poured his entire being into the message he was delivering.

"However! Let us show the enemy a last act of defiance! Let us show them one last battle of faith! We will die in the Emperor's name, with His fire in our hearts and His light in our eyes, and when we can fight no more, we will join him in Him in the afterlife! Therefore, do not give the damned xenos an inch! Fight to the last breath! Fight until every ounce of strength has left your body, until every fragment of your physical form has been torn to shreds! The Emperor has designated that we prove ourselves today, and we shall not be found wanting!"

Nathan chuckled at the long and religiously inspiring speech. It was typical of that commissar. The man's faith in the Emperor was immeasurable, after all.

"CHAR-"

It turns out that the order for the charge would not be voiced yet, interrupted by a seemingly random celestial occurrence that appeared seemingly from nonexistence.

Just as the Ork horde grew closer and the guardsmen prepared to charge out of their trenches to meet their enemy with one last burst of bravado, something resembling a small meteorite fell out of the air in a flashing blaze.

Crashing into the front of the Ork flood, the fallen object killed twenty of them with its impact, the shockwave knocking many more to their feet. Coincidentally, the meteor landed not too far from Nathan's location, so close to him that he could observe its details with his naked eye. The man could feel the heat and wind generated from the object's descent.

The guardsmen stopped their preparation, shocked at this new development. The fallen object did not kill many Orks, but it was surprising all the same.

Looking in front of him, wide-eyed, Nathan attempted to identify just what was it that had descended to the earth. His eyes were greeted by a mysteriously broken skeleton, almost completely reduced to ash, along with something akin to a necklace upon its neck.

The man's eyes became even wider with recognition as realized just what, or who had fallen.

"_The Planetary governor?"_

The pearl necklace had been created using the excrement of a native creature from the planet, forming a lightweight, but tough material. However, only a pearl the size of a man's toe could be harvested every five hundred years.

The planetary governor's necklace had many such pearls on its string, passed down from generation to generation, each heir adding a pearl every five hundred years.

No doubt the commissar noticed this too, as his eyes widened in surprise for a millisecond.

Of course, the Orks did not care for any of this, many of them not even curious enough to stop for a second. They kept up their charge, advancing towards the guardsmen's lines.

With no time left to ponder, every human present simply ignored the celestial occurrence, returning to their battle once more.

As the guardsmen recovered from their shock in less than a second and prepared to charge out of their trenches once more, it happened. The turning point of the battle surfaced in a blinding flash of gold, capturing the attention of all on the battlefield.

A golden halo and celestial wings giving off the appearance of an angel, the most beautiful woman Nathan had ever seen floated above the battlefield like an avenging goddess, her jet-black hair contrasting the gold of her eyes and plain trenchcoat. It seemed to flutter next to her head as if enchanted.

As those jewel-like golden eyes swept across the battlefield like Mechanicus sensors obtaining information, the guardsmen could feel something primordial in their hearts spring up.

Instantly, they knew that even if they died here, their sacrifice would not be in vain, that they would be welcomed in the embrace of the Emperor. Any unworthy speck of fear instantly evaporating, every single soldier bustled with energy, embraced by the golden aura which seemed to flow out of the woman's every pore.

Phantom pains and disabling wounds accompanied by years of service disappeared into nothingness. Tired and battered bodies suddenly overflowed with strength, standing tall amidst the greenskin attack.

Nathan looked up with awed eyes as the woman looked down at him and his fellow soldiers, marveling at her beauty.

The guardsmen were stunned, almost not noticing that their lives were in danger at this very moment, completely focusing their attention at the heaven-sent saint that had appeared before them.

Seeing this, the subject of their affection, the woman herself, decided to take action.

With the power of a few words, the entire five guardsmen regiments sent on the planet were transformed from feeble, exhausted soldiers into unyielding paragons of the Emperor's light.

With those words alone, Nathan's entire soul was elevated to a new tier of existence, his entire being completely filled with a new purpose, the protection of humanity. No doubt every other guardsman felt the same thing, realizing the Emperor's true task for them on a level bordering enlightenment. If anyone feared death before, they definitely didn't now. Many preachers and priests have taught that giving one's life for the divine species known as humanity was the greatest honor. However, it was only now that those words were truly recognized, and anyone who was exposed to the truth instantly stopped fearing the petty phenomenon known as death. After all, what is the life of one man compared to the fate of the whole species?

In an instant, the spirit of humanity emanated in the hearts of every soldier present, filling their hearts with lion-like bravery.

A booming voice could be heard inside the hearts of every guardsman who fought in this battle, the voice of justice and order belonging to none other than the most blessed of saints.

"**Stand, children of mankind! The Emperor Protects!"**

As soon as those words were uttered, all hell broke loose.

Every guardsman let out a primal shout of anger, fury, and righteousness as they charged out of their trenches in a frenzy, meeting the Ork tide with a wall of uncompromising las-beams and adamantium blades. They saw the appearance of the saint as a sign of the Emperor's recognition for their faith and stalwart determination, striving to serve Him with even more vigor and dedication than ever before.

As Nathan thrust the chipped bayonet of his rifle in an Ork's exposed larnyx, savoring the watery shout of pain and anger the greenskin uttered from its slit throat, the man couldn't help but grin.

This was officially the best day of his life.

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As Mal teleported above the battlefield, she observed it with a scrutinizing eye, gathering information she would use to make her next move.

Nothing was hidden from her. Drops of blood hitting the ground miles away were heard with complete certainty, every individual body hair upon both man and Ork as easily perceived as if they were but millimeters away from her eyes.

First, Mal had thought that absorbing and processing such a large amount of information would overwhelm her brain, but with her new body, it was surprisingly easy. A small period of time was needed for her to adjust mentally, but there weren't too many complications. Being a transhuman was a sensation unimaginable to humans. It was why she was called transhuman, after al.

Now, as she processed the information in her mind, Mal realized the situation instantly, forming a plan in seconds.

"_Hopefully, killing that governor should have added some morale to the troops. Honestly, how did that guy get chosen for his job in the first place?"_

After a broad version of the current situation was assessed, Mal immediately teleported into the space station of the planetary governor, knocking out his guards and kidnapping him with utter ease. She then teleported to the battlefield, dangling him over the battlefield from the stratosphere.

The feeble man had protested all the while, but as Mal grabbed ahold of his well-greased hair and dropped him down into the greenskin horde like a vegetable into a pot. The only thing that wretched man could do in his final moments was scream.

Apparently, the intended morale boost seems to have worked.

Now, as Mal confirmed the location of the Ork warboss, the giant standing at the backlines of his army, power-klaw brandishing in a show of aggression, she smirked.

The girl looked down at the corpses of the fallen Imperial Guardsmen, examining them for a brief second.

"_Yep, looks like a few of them got shot from behind the trench. Just another case of bad luck. Orks can barely hit anything even if they try to aim, which they don't. Jeez, I actually feel sorry for these guys now."_

To be truthful, with the Orks' numbers, it didn't really matter if their aim was off.

Still, the guardsmen who died did not fall in some sort of honorable battle, nor did they die to a skilled or respectable enemy. Their lives were immediately cut short by random greenskins with the mental capacity and emotional management skills of three-year-olds, shooting their dilapidated guns in every conceivable direction.

No one would want to die to an enemy like that.

Therefore, Mal, taking some sort of pity on the guardsmen who fell, sighed before raising a hand, forming a clutching position with her fingers.

Suddenly, the bodies of the fallen rose up into the air, embraced gently by a comfortable golden energy.

When they had risen a meter off the ground, the residual blood from their bodies flowed out from their mouths in serpentine streams, gathering above Mal's hand.

The streams of blood converged to form a spear of simplistic design, devoid of decoration and inefficiency.

The shaft was the height of three men and the length of one, the tip, sharp to a molecular level, glistening menacingly in the sunlight.

With a wave of Mal's hand, the bodies of the fallen burst into brilliant golden flame, their deaths commemorated by the Emperor's own fire.

The spear floated above Mal's right hand, poised behind her as if she intended to throw something. The liquid making up the impressive weapon had stopped flowing at this point, every single individual molecule rigid and unmovable as adamantium. Held together by Mal's power, the blood was borderline ice.

As Mal put more strength into her throwing arm, the blood spear seemed to ripple with golden electricity, constantly surrounding the weapon like a cloak.

Narrowing her eyes at the Ork Warboss behind enemy lines, Mal finished preparations to throw her spear.

The weapon began to spin at a rapid pace, generating gusts of wind that blew Mal's hair about, slightly annoying her. Then, it began to accelerate, spinning faster and faster until it became a literal whirlwind of crimson and gold.

The girl smirked, aiming her throwing lance at the body of the Warboss.

"Remember guardsmen, this your kill, not mine!"

The rotating spear was thrown with enough force to shatter a diamond wall as it rocketed forward at a speed of Mach five.

A second later, it reached the Ork lines, the sheer kinetic energy generated by the spear's rotation knocking more than a hundred greenskins off their feet, the razor winds slicing apart many more at close contact.

However, the slicing winds were merely the tip of the iceberg, clearly shown when it obliterated the Ork warboss without any resistance or defiance, as the brute's body was too slow to react to such an attack even when it could easily swat autogun shells from the air.

As the blood spear impacted the ground, its sheer velocity resulted in a massive explosion, engulfing all nearby Orks while its rotation enabled it to drill several dozens of meters into the ground, forming something akin to a massive cave entrance. The blood comprising the weapon evaporated an instant after its rotation was stopped, the psychic energies holding together its integrity dissipating.

This sight seemed to raise the guardsmen's morale up to the moon while leaving the greenskins leaderless at the same time.

Of course, the Ork survivors, seeing the power of their opponent, only became more excited as they pushed their bodies to the maximum in order to partake in this great battle.

Seeing this, Mal nodded.

"_Yep, just as expected. They got even more excited. At this point, they don't really even need a leader anymore. This battle is beyond tactics."_

However, even when Mal was acknowledging the morale boost of her enemy, she smirked victoriously.

After all, she had the perfect positioning to do what she needed to.

Raising a hand into the air, seemingly grasping an invisible object, Mal seemed to glare at the Orks, her gaze suddenly becoming as piercing as a las-cannot shot.

As reality itself seemed to shimmer and stretch in a shade of gold, the girl remained stern, thrusting her clutching hand into the air.

The results were instant, clearly perceived by every guardsman and Ork.

In a single instant, a tornado created from golden flame was formed over the battlefield, stretching hundreds of meters into the heavens, spinning at such a high velocity that it seemed to not move at all. Of course, it was positioned deep into Ork lines. No guardsman would be hurt by it.

Even the base of the cone, the smallest part of the tornado, was several meters thick, instantly encompassing several Orks, not even leaving behind their charred ashes. The greenskins seemed to be sucked into the strange whirlwind, not even given the opportunity to reach the top before their bodies and souls were completely scorched to oblivion.

Putting her free hand behind her back, Mal held out her palm in a pushing motion, causing the tornado to move forward at a quick pace, sucking in more Orks, all disintegrating after touching her flames for less than a millisecond.

It was like using a vacuum cleaner on a swarm of ants. Everywhere Mal sent her tornado, a massive amount of Orks would be killed instantly. Soon, the enemy death count was in the ten thousands mere seconds after Mal used her abilities.

However, the guardsmen were not doing very well. Bravado only able to provide a certain amount of battle prowess, proven by the many soldiers who had fallen.

It was an actual miracle that the greenskins did not breach their defenses. By all means, that should have been exactly what happened, something Mal was ready to deal with. However, that wouldn't really be a good idea, she surmised.

"_Well, I should have probably done this sooner, but no time like the present, right?"_

Glancing over to the line of guardsmen holding their ground, Mal visualized an invisible barrier separating them from the greenskins.

However, she stopped in an instant after she realized that there was no way she could pull off such a feat. For starters, many stray limbs and weapons were held out by the guardsmen attempting to repel the Orks in melee range. If Mal simply cut all of that off with her barrier, the entire army would be crippled.

"_I guess it's better to destroy their back ranks first. I wanted to practice controlling my powers here, but thousands of worthy lives are at stake. There's no room for experimentation or uncertainty. So… I guess I'll go with that"_

Mal grit her teeth as dark gold energy flowed through her, providing a tingling sensation.

To those who observed, she became even more celestial in appearance, halo and wings now the shade of goldish-orange.

As two glaring lights, appearing as if they were the geneses of whole galaxies, swept across the battlefield, a hand was raised into the air, as if holding an orb.

And as the Orks continued to rampage across the battlefield, viciously tearing apart the desperate humans, they heard an ethereal voice in the sky, echoing in their minds as if intruding upon their very existence.

"**O', lord of humanity."**

Nathan stopped fighting instantly, looking upon Mal's form in wonder, feeling her words resound in his heart.

As the chant continued, the guardsman found himself battling more instinctually, as if guided by a celestial hand.

"**Dispense thine blessings upon the worthy."**

Instantly, it was as if Nathan had exploded in power.

Every single muscle in his body seemed to radiate energy, and the sheer amount of strength in his limbs threatening to overwhelm his own comprehension.

Time was suddenly moving so slowly that everything seemed to be inconsequential.

Bullets whizzed past the guardsman's form as he noted their lessened speed. They were far too slow, as if balls of parchment thrown by a frustrated scribe. With his military experience and training as a Cadian, Nathan had no trouble avoiding them.

"**Grant upon us thine endless bounty."**

Nathan was suddenly fast. So fast that he had already shot three Orks in the span of a single second.

Without knowing what he was doing, the man's body acted on its own, legs propelling him to the nearest greenskin.

"**And direct your divine wrath towards the sinful."**

The energy from the motion cracked the earthen ground itself, tremendous air resistance tugging at Nathan's hair and clothes.

There was a single swing of a knife, a sudden blur of silver in the air.

For a moment, it was as if nothing had changed, and the guardsman checked the state of his combat knife, fearing that it was broken from the impact.

And then, the sound of meat hitting dirt graced Nathan's ears as he gazed upon the headless body of a fallen Ork, head still snarling in anger.

Now, finally acknowledging the boost of power in his body, Nathan grinned maniacally, placing his foot upon the fallen skull.

Soon, the sound of crushed bone and flesh joined with the clamorous sounds of war, adding to its grizzly brilliance.

With awe in his eyes, Nathan looked upon the stalwart form of the saint, admiring her holy brilliance even when his eyes threatened to burst within their sockets.

In fact, he was so entranced by the billowing of hair and clothing that he was unable to recognize the shift in advantage.

Meanwhile, Mal gazed downward at the guardsmen, enhanced by the Emperor's own blessing.

They cleaved their way through the hoard of endless green, akin to a crescent wave threatening to devour all in its path.

And as Mal watched her subordinates fight back against the xenos threat, she grinned.

"_Alright, I guess I'll finish this soon then."_

Needless to say, the planet was unable to be secured in the end, but after all the civilians were evacuated, Mal had her soldiers retreat, minimalizing casualties.

Considering the overrun state of the planet, it was subjected to Extermanitus after a short while, awaiting future terraforming and seeding.

Knowing that the surviving guardsmen would spread tales of her actions, Mal chuckled in delight, knowing that her reputation would be boosted by this.

"_Alright, what should I do next?"_

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Soon, another month had passed.

Mal was currently sitting in her ship, eye twitching at the fallen golden metal on the ground.

"_Boring. SO DAMNED BORING!"_

Groaning, the girl stood up, flicking her wrist absentmindedly.

As her conjured wraithbone was sent back to her Warp storage, the girl straightened out her greatcoat, now decorated with many skull and Aquilla engravings.

She had a long amount of time to improve her craftsmanship, learning how to make semi-detailed decorations and engravings on her clothes.

Running a hand through her jet-black hair, Mal walked towards the metal exit of her room.

The incident with the Ork invasion was dealt with without any problem, something Mal was extremly happy about.

There was simply a sense of elation of having done something correctly. She had saved thousands, if not millions of lives, after all.

"_Still, what the hell do I do now? Lion can't possibly expect me to wait ten whole months! He may be able to let the eons breeze past, but I can't!"_

Pressing the control panel which opened the adamantium door before her, Mal stepped into the metal corridor, walking aimlessly to clear her head.

"_Hmm… should I spend the time to visit Rouboute Guilliman? No… probably not. Even if he accepts me as an ally, there's no guarantee that he'll actually trust me. I probably need Lion to vouch for me. Celestine knows about me, but he's not so tolerant of her either."_

"Nope, that's crossed out. I'll wait to visit Papa Smurf after Lion's done with his pilgrimage to Terra."

Rubbing her head viciously, the girl sighed.

"What the hell do I do then?"

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In the endless labyrinth of the Webway, the sinister chuckling of a mad, clownlike deity could be heard, almost as if it had seen something amusing within its domain.

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Another month had passed by like the gust of a swift wind, inviting nothing more than the emergence of absolute boredom.

Fortunately, Mal had adapted to this, using her time wisely.

She trained herself in the way of the sword, utilizing a method only useable to someone of her intellect.

Calling upon her eidetic memory, Mal reviewed her training with the Emperor, forming an image of him in her mind, one with a complete set of movements, techniques, and strengths.

As Mal stood in the cargo storage bay, she projected that image of her father in front of her, a gold-armored warrior armed with a massive gauntlet and flaming sword.

She saw every single pore of his perfect body with complete clarity, felt the authoritarian warmth of his aura wash over her like a tide of flame, and tensed in the face of his overbearing killing intent.

There was no psychic sorcery involved, no blessing from the god of humanity. There was only the mental image of a perfect man, a simulation of the greatest warrior in existence.

Every single atom of the illusion's form had been painstakingly crafted from Mal's mind, every factor of his existence perfectly generated from a combination of her adoration and mental genius.

Now staring at the simulation of her father, projected in a readied stance on the cargo hold, the girl grinned wryly.

"_Tch. I can't get this perfect. His swordsmanship is too perfect for me to be able to reproduce, even if it's just in a mental simulation. Moreover, Dad can move faster than I can think, so limiting his actions to my own mental projection is too large a downgrade."_

The simulation was not perfect, but Mal could deal with it. Even if this image was a far cry from the original, it could still produce the second-best swordsmanship in the whole of the Imperium, perhaps even the galaxy.

In other words, it was the best training dummy Mal had at her disposal.

Straightening her greatcoat, the girl pulled out her chainsword from the Warp, activating the weapon with her psychic might.

Instantly, the sharp chain blurred into nothingness, moving too fast to be perceived by the human eye. The blade was encased by a layer of golden flame, the sound of a gentle flame joining with the graceful roar of the weapon's psychic engine.

Readying herself, Mal prepared to battle with her father once more, attempting to raise her skill with the blade.

Her laspistol would only be a burden. Stray shots would damage the cargo hold, and attempting to actually aim at the Emperor was just a laughable idea. He was far too fast for any ranged weapon to hit.

Narrowing her eyes dangerously, Mal became serious. Well, as serious as she could possibly be while restraining her psychic might, but that was unavoidable.

Wordlessly, the battle began.

It also ended just a moment later.

As the sound of a loud boom traveled across the spacious room, Mal was knocked into its adamantium walls, courtesy of a power greater than the blast of ten melta grenades.

The illusion of the Emperor stood tall in Mal's mind, brandishing a single burning gauntlet, the same weapon that had inflicted this damage onto her.

In a single moment, the simulated warrior had closed the distance between them, viciously backhanding Mal into the nearest wall before she could even register his movements.

Now, she suffered from a fractured ribcage and several damaged organs, causing her to vomit a glob of blood onto the floor.

"_Damn it! That was supposed to be easy mode!"_

Mal had purposely decreased the power of her simulated father to give herself a better chance.

Normally, the Emperor would be somewhat gentle in his training, adjusting his strength and speed to accommodate Mal's.

Not now. The girl realized that she needed an opponent who was serious about wanting to take her life, so she created her simulation based on that. However, it just proved to be too much for her.

Wincing, Mal dismissed the mental image of the Emperor, not wanting to cause further damage to the ship. She assumed that her strength was enough to contain the simulation, but it was not, as the damage had been dealt already.

Normally, even a mentally simulation as realistic as this one could not affect reality so.

Mal had created an image convincing enough to fool her body into taking damage, believing the illusion to be real. However, there should not have been any kinetic energy generated from the battle.

Or… at least for any normal person.

Considering that Mal was a latent psyker, and that the Warp was based on the beliefs and emotions of sentient organisms, this simulation was… much more realistic for her.

Sighing, the girl dropped down from the wall, feeling her wounds return to nothing.

Focusing on the previous shape of the damaged wall, Mal gripped the adamantium's structure with her psychic might, rearranging them in a fitting manner.

Patting down her ruffled clothing, the girl sighed.

"Well, if I can't even train, then what the hell am I supposed to do?"

And then, as if awaiting this moment, Mal's woes were vanquished.

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In the dark, life-deprived wastes of Rancarex, a series of slim and well-armored individuals marched, their graceful steps unimpeded by the jagged pieces or radioactive rock protruding from the dastardly moon.

The group was grim, silent, almost as if they were attending the funeral of a saint.

They were as diverse as the space marines.

Armored, knight-like figures walked in the front, wielding sinister greatswords, gleaming in the barely-luminescent background. Dark helmets covered their faces, betraying no hint of emotion.

Behind these emotionless warriors were a band of barbaric females, fit, pale bodies covered by nothing but a few plates of light armor and dark, tight strips of clothing.

Long hair tied back for the sake of optimization of combat, they carried with them exotic, practical, and complex weapons, all dripping with sinister poison capable of killing with a single drop.

Finally, positioned at the very back of the group were perhaps the most bizarre and exotic of all.

Colorful, jester-like greatcoats covered the bodies of mask-wearing individuals, each portraying a separate emotion in the spectrum.

Some of these battle-jesters carried with them glimmering power-swords and spears. Others hauled around heavy, but elegant double-handed cannons, capable of releasing high-speed projectiles that can easily shred adamantium, delivering a deadly poison payload.

This was a formidable force, even if they numbered a meager fifty.

It was a bizarre congregation of factions not regularly capable of working together, but are suddenly capable of doing so in this occasion.

This fact was clearly proven by the blood-red colors upon their armor and weapons. Only the jesters were exempt from this rule, but they were a special case.

Many would find the assembly of this group to be strange.

After all, what were the dreaded wyches and incubi of the Dark City doing so far from home, marching on a radiation-saturated moon?

Moreover, what are the harlequins doing here? The forces of the Laughing God did not offer their services so readily. At least not in any normal circumstance.

This was no normal circumstance.

The little strike force was led by the infamous Yvraine, Opener of the Seventh way.

And indeed, all of her red-armored subordinates were soul-bound to the god of death, united under the most momentous of common causes, the salvation of their species.

Under the azure glare of the radioactive moon, the Visarch, one of Yvraine's most influential vassals, walked alongside her at the front of the party.

He was wreathed in full crimson-plate, a divine cronesword sheathed at his waist.

"Are you certain that this is the correct course of action?"

He referenced their presence on this moon, and the purpose of it.

Yvraine's eyes narrowed.

"Yes. Eldrad Ulthran has confirmed that an important artifact lies upon this moon, and that it will benefit the Ynnari greatly."

The Visarch snarled.

"But what exactly is this so-called artifact? What is its use for our cause?"

Yvraine sighed.

"You should know that the future is often clouded and uncertain. The seerlord cannot be faulted on this."

The Visarch pressed on.

"Even so, Yvraine, should we not approach this with more caution? This blasted rock is thick with the stench of the Warp."

Yvraine nodded in agreement.

"And that is why we tread with care. This journey will not be without conflict."

The Visarch was silent to this. His glaring mask betrayed no expression.

Yvraine walked ahead of her group, trailed by her feline companion.

Kha-Vir seemed to radiate an aura of death, a bluish mist dancing ominously along its blade.

None of the Eldar paid their surroundings much heed. None of it was worthy of their attention, just radioactive rocks on a damned planet.

Once, this world was a thriving colony for human settlers, a paradise of clean air and beautiful vegetation. Those same settlers were cut off from the rest of their species thanks to mysterious circumstances, technological prowess degrading with each passing generation.

Eventually, the most powerful weapons they were left with were the crude, imperfect bombs from the savage ages of man.

The humans, now divided into superstitious tribes, used these explosives against one another, unknowing of the effects it would have on their home.

Soon, the beauty of the planet was blasted into oblivion by the miniature suns fired within its atmosphere, reducing lush, radiant forests into barren, radioactive wastelands, devoid of all life.

Needless to say, the human settlers were soon deceased, ruined by their own foolishness.

Now, the Ynnari sought to claim an ancient artifact amongst the ruins of the human civilization, a machine located in a specific holding facility, containing a possible source of salvation.

Thanks to political factors, the genius inventor who had created this device was assassinated days after its completion. The machine itself was passed down through the ages, not seeing use even once, not even after its relocation to this world.

And the museum which held this artifact was exactly what the Ynnari saw as they continued to march forward, a beacon of azure brilliance in a deadly viridian hell.

Yvraine narrowed her eyes as she observed the building, noting its many smooth curves and spacious entryways. The entire building seemed to be made from adamantium, blue energy flowing through intentional river-like paths grafted to its walls. The museum hummed dully, its azure pattern contrasting to its dark grey appearance.

"This is it. A temple of old, containing arcane artifacts of the past. Eldrad's instructions point clearly to this place."

The Visarch snorted, radiating displeasure.

"Then let us move."

Yvraine frowned at his hostility, but said no more.

Stepping forward, she soon reached one of the many entrances of the building, her subordinates following suit.

It was spacious enough to allow a Wraithlord entry. Completely unbarred, the doorless entrance was clearly meant to appear welcoming to all who that would visit it.

As Yvraine entered the massive building, she suddenly noticed a brilliant contrast between it and the rest of the moon.

Most, if not all other traces of civilization had been wiped clean off the map, but this museum stood tall amidst it all, completely undamaged. Was this some sign of Warp sorcery, or was humanity's technological prowess just so great?

Yvraine snorted.

The Aledari empire had been greater in the past, before the fall.

Both the Eldar and humans suffered a great loss in civilization, but one of them had hope of a better future, reaching towards it with strained arms, while the other struggled against their destruction savagely with tooth and claw, utilizing all of their resources just to survive.

The Eldar were clearly the superior species, or so the Ynnari thought.

Yvraine walked forth, studying her surroundings with a skeptical eye.

An attack may be presented at any time, so it was always optimal to expect one.

However, such a thing was highly unlikely in the current situation, as there seemed to be nothing nearby.

Broken anti-gravity display cases littered the museum, their contents stolen long ago.

The markings of decomposed graffiti were still present upon the adamantium pillars and statues within the building, their purpose, long forgotten.

As the Ynnari treaded through the broken glass, they found nothing of importance.

Even the grandiose plasma chandeliers used to illuminate the museum were either stolen and broken, their functions having ceased long ago.

Yvraine was expressionless at this, continuing to walk forward.

The rest of her company, sneering at the repulsiveness of humanity, followed her wordlessly.

There was nothing much to see, as every feature of the museum had already been taken. There were only the silent footfalls of the Ynnari as they traveled across the expansive museum, not making a single sound, even in their deceptively solid-looking armor.

Soon, the Ynnari reached the center exhibit of the museum, the magnum opus of the whole collection of historical artifacts.

Contained on an archaic pedestal surrounded by dilapidated security systems and anti-gravity projectors. The pedestal was several meters tall, surrounded by a circular set of red stairs, dye faded to a dull brown.

The actual artifact itself was hidden, concealed within a skull-sized cube. The cube seemed to radiate some sort of blue light from all sides, smooth surfaces projecting a dull hum.

As Yvraine was about to step forth, the Visarch stopped her with an armored hand.

"You cannot take this risk, not when you are the most important of all of us."

Seeing his logic, the opener of the seventh way relented, nodding with a resigned expression on her face.

There was no telling what properties the artifact would have. What made it more suspicious was the low, but unsettling psychic presence it generated. It was quite obvious that whatever was inside the box, it was connected to the Warp.

Therefore, if something unexpected were to happen, Yvraine would not be the one victimized.

Instantly, a succubus stepped forward, nodding towards Yvraine dutifully.

The priestess of Ynnead nodded back, thankful for her subordinate's possible sacrifice.

As the succubus climbed up the stairs, Yvraine attempted to consult her spirits for aid, observing possible futures with her experience as a seer.

However, she found herself unable to read the tides of the Warp at all, as if its mind-breaking waves were being withdrawn from her.

Not relenting, the priestess attempted to break through this strange disturbance, calling upon the power of Ynnead to achieve her goal.

Eventually, as if compelled by a chilling, undead force, the tides of the Warp became more unrestrained, flowing freely towards Yvraine.

She smiled.

"_Alright. Now, show me what will hap-"_

Inside the Warp, the waves of the future crashed into the priestess at a velocity unnatural even for something born of anti-logic, consuming her in its all-knowing tides.

This was not just a special occurrence, but psychic manipulation from an unknown source.

Unfortunately for Yvraine, she was too preoccupied with other matters to think on that.

She was surrounded on all sides by the waves, enclosing upon her like some sort of twisted liquid cocoon.

Suddenly, Yvraine shuddered in displeasure.

"_What are these emotions? Why are they filled with so much greed, so much pleasure?"_

Something was very wrong.

The tides of the Warp were never supposed to show only emotions. They were supposed to bring with them potential futures, best and worst possibilities condensed into psychic bursts of information.

Therefore, something like this should have never happened… unless...

And suddenly, the wave changed, shifting from unimaginable, everchanging colors, to…

"_Pink?"_

Eyes widening, Yvraine called upon Ynnead, flaring her soul with all her might in an attempt to escape the psychic cocoon. In almost panicked notions, the Ynnari's mind blasted against the eccentric prison she was encased in.

She could not be blamed for this. Knowing what she now faced, Yvraine's reaction was quite appropriate.

"_NO!"_

After all, the forces of Slannesh were already present.

And then, as if having revealed the truth of an elaborate prank, the everchanging "waves" stopped flowing entirely, becoming static, stuck in a single location.

And as those same waves congregated and shifted into an almost hominid shape, Yvraine knew that they did not tell of the future at all.

A disguise was uncovered, and a monster was revealed.

As the Ynnari leader gazed into the depraved, ancient eyes of the being before her, she felt a chill run down her spine.

Immediately sending her soul back to her physical body, Yvraine did not stop to consider why the abominable existence within the Warp allowed her to accomplish this act, reaching forth a hand to warn her subordinates instead.

To the outsiders, it was as if Yvraine's body suddenly aged several years, pale face dripping with cold sweat.

She cried out,

"Do not touch it!"

Sensing her meaning instantly, the Visarch rocketed forward, hand upon his cronesword. He had also sensed the abominable presence, reeking of the stench of forbidden pleasures.

However, even the Khaine-sworn's sound-breaking speed could not reach the alter in time, as the oblivious succubus grabbed onto the surface of the cube with one hand, a mere microsecond after Yvraine's warning.

The residents of Commorragh had their psychic senses dulled by generations of inbreeding and the suppression of their gifts, meaning that the succubus was unable to sense the massive shift in the Warp.

This difference in physiology would spell the succubus's doom this day, as she suddenly found her hand stuck to the glowing cube, now shifting to a horrid pink color.

Without any time to react further, the Dark Eldar's soul was ripped from the cold embrace of Ynnead, redirected towards the true enemy of all Eldar kind.

Yvraine, desperately trying to avert the horrendous situation, used every ounce of mental strength she had to channel Ynnead's strength into herself in a futile attempt to draw upon his strength.

However, there was nothing she could use to fuel such a miracle, as not a single of her followers had died.

As her abilities were centered around the deaths of her allies and foes, Yvraine was quite powerless in this ordeal.

And the _things_ she was about to fight. Well… _they_ certainly would not be fed into the gentle abyss of the Whispering God.

Eyes alit with weak spectral fire, the priestess of Ynnead could only stare in horror as a rift was torn in reality, a jagged wound opening upon the fabric of space and time itself.

Extending a hundred meters up and twenty wide, the portal, vibrantly pink and needlessly colorful, depicted a surreal scene from the worst of nightmares and the most splendid of dreams.

A scene of a grand, blissful palace was revealed through the tear in reality, charming the hearts of all who observed it.

Almost immediately afterward, the image of the palace disappeared, transformed into a grand showing of wealth, diamonds and gold coins uncountable stretching across an endless marble paradise.

And so forth, the scenery behind the palace shifted, again and again, to accommodate the six domains of Slannesh, entrancing any who attempt to make sense of it.

Stunned by the rift's surreal unreality, several Ynnari froze in shock, their souls wavering from the rightful path of the Whispering God.

And in the next moment, quite literatly, all hell broke loose.

As if a tsunami had suddenly appeared before the Ynnari, a massive wave of daemonettes poured from the twisted portal, seductive chuckling accompanied by the dark, unnatural sheen of crab-like pincer arms.

As the hermaphrodite monstrosities rushed towards the Ynnari, the Visarch appeared before them in a flash, cronesword swinging before they could even react.

The sight of their leader's prowess served to invigorate Yvraine's subordinates, who soon joined him on the front lines, a mere thirty meters from the portal. Their previous sensations of fear and disbelief were erased when presented with a new, dire threat.

The air was vibrant with the noises of screams and shuriken fire, the stench of blood and daemonic ichor repulsing her sensitive nose.

The Succubi leaped into the fray, poisoned weapons gorging on the tainted flesh of the horde of daemonette.

The Incubi rallied to the Visarch, the sheer awe-inspiring discipline amongst their ranks putting their opponents to shame.

As sinister Klaives swinging in fluent, vicious arcs, daemons were bisected and cut into ectoplasmic shreds, dissipating soon afterward. The former dwellers of Commorragh were pleased with this, every enemy casualty a testament to their skill and cruelty.

However, even as the former Drukhari forces destroyed waves upon waves of the daemons, they were never able to gain any ground.

Even as the already departing souls invigorated and strengthened their living brethren, they were only barely enough to halt the daemon tide, not stop it.

The Eldar defenders were being quickly overrun, even though the enemy had appeared a mere thirteen seconds ago.

Meanwhile, in the backlines, Yvraine struggled desperately to gather the energy of the dead to use one of her abilities, something she was quickly succeeding in.

Feeling the blessings of Ynnead within her, the Opener of the Seventh Path channeled that power into her surroundings, resulting in catastrophic losses for the enemy.

As the deathly powers of the unborn Eldar god spread through the room in the form of a thick mist, all the daemonettes who so eagerly attacked the Ynnari forces before were completely banished back into the Warp, their physical avatars utterly annihilated.

The gaping wound in reality was suddenly blocked by a barrier of whispering darkness, the daemonettes held back by the Wispering God's will, channeled through his champion.

Yvraine's hands were outstretched now, her grinx meowing worriedly on her shoulder.

Eyes blazing with spectral prowess, the leader of the Ynnari announced her plan.

"_**Quickly! Retrieve the artifact! It is what empowers the great enemy in this place!"**_

The Visarch, once again, was the one who answered Yvraine's call first. Calling upon the experiences of a nimble Craftworld Warp Spider, the former Khaine-worshipper leaped atop the small alter, thrusting forth his cronesword in an attempt to destroy the now-revealed Chaos artifact.

The succubus who had touched it had her soul dragged into the clutches of She Who Thirsts, so there was no guarantee the same would not happen to him. However, the artifact within the pink-glowing cube was what served as a connection between the Palace of Slannesh and realspace, therefore, its destruction would remove the Warp rift entirely.

However, as the Visarch's blade was an inch away from the accursed cube, he heard the sharp, pain-induced scream of Yvraine, his heart wavering for a nanosecond.

And then, just as he made up his mind again to destroy the Chaos artifact once more, he found his body brutally redirected into one of the museum's ancient walls, which was more than thirty meters away. This resulted in the shattering of the back of the Visarch's armor, six of his ribs, and the destruction of an adamantium wall that was able to withstand multiple nuclear bombardments.

Coughing up an enormous amount of blood into his helm, the Visarch fell to the ground, struggling to rise to his feet.

Meanwhile, Yvraine shakily brought herself back to her feet, senses overloaded by the sheer presence of the new enemy before her.

Shattering the etherial barrier Yvraine had conjured over the portal, twin giant crab-like claws, black as night, stretched from thin, pale arms.

The originator of those claws stood over the Ynnari like a colossus over mere ants, pleasure-consumed eyes eyeing them as if they were nothing more than playthings for the great being's amusement.

Brandishing a massive witstealer sword in one of its four clawed hands, the giant's three-meter long red tongue was released from its grotesque abomination of a mouth, lapping up the air in the room, damp with the blood of the Ynnari.

Taking in the sight of the curved black horns upon the monster's head and neck along with its revolting, yet attractive purple skin, Yvraine found herself half-panicking for the first time in a while.

The entire room was immediately silent for a whole second, every single Eldar staring upon the manifestation of their worst nightmares, whose very presence was enough to force their souls into eternal damnation. They all felt a primordial dread in their psyches, but also a begrudged attraction, the latter being much more horrifying a prospect than the first.

Breaking through Ynnead's barrier in a nanosecond, the giant moved with blistering speed unnatural for something of its size, swinging one of its massive claws in a brutal arc, hitting the Visarch with a blow strong enough to crush terminator armor.

Smiling, the daemon taunted her.

"_**No, that will not do. I will not allow you to destroy such a promising artifact…"**_

It was a Keeper of Secrets, one of the greatest heralds of Slannesh. Acting as the ultimate enforcers of his will, these ginormous monstrosities were the concept of cruel violence unbound, every single action designed to cause the maximum amount of pain and corruption.

"_Was that the entity that I saw when I peered into the Warp?"_

Now, as the Ynnari reformed their ranks, a succubus asked Yvraine,

"What shall we do now, my lady?"

Grimacing in worry, Yvraine met eyes with the Visarch, knowing what had to be done.

"_Curse you Eldrad! I had thought you a trickster, but never had one of your prophecies been outright wrong!"_

Cursing under her breath, the priestess stated her orders.

"Retreat is no longer an option. We are not fast enough to outrun the enemy this time. Stand and fight! I shall try to appease the Whispering God for a miracle!"

She did not even attempt to wait for a response, immediately sprinting forward to meet an already increasing amount of daemonettes that poured pout of the portal unchecked.

A small contingent of Incubi headed towards the Visarch, attempting to recover his cronesword at all costs. It was a sacred artifact with the potential to awake Ynnead, which meant that it was a top-priority item.

However, those fully-armored warriors, trained in their cruel arts for hundreds of years, suddenly stopped in their tracks.

Yvraine was bewildered at this phenomenon, at least until she saw the now-outstretched sword-arm of the Keeper of Secrets.

There was a sound of clanking upon the metal floor of the museum, followed by several others.

Five Incubi looked, bewildered, as their line of sight was lowered by a substantial degree.

And as their blood flowed free from their dying bodies, the fallen Eldar only had a moment to register the reality of their deaths, and the sheer, utter unbelievability of it.

After all, they had all been bisected at the waist before any of them realized it.

Yvraine grimaced as she thrust her sword into the howling neck of a daemonette, reducing it to ash.

Attempting to her comrades' souls as a power-source to summon the Yncarne, a manifestation of Ynnead's will, the priestess reached out across the Warp.

However, as Yvraine attempted to draw upon the familiar death energies of her fallen comrades, she let out an uncharacteristic gasp.

There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. The power of Ynnead was still here, but the souls of the recently dead were nowhere to be found.

Then, a non-binary chuckle echoed across the room, silken, yet revolting. Alluring, yet cruel.

"_**You will not find the support of their souls, apostle of the Death God. After all, they are all having such a pleasurable time here."**_

Yvraine watched, horrified, as a multitude of tortured souls rotated around the outstretched palm of the Greater Daemon, emitting tortured screams from the pain of a thousand woes.

She had not been able to detect them because they were too corrupted, resembling the ravenous demonettes more than any Eldar.

Yvraine flinched at the implications, and what it meant for her people.

"_**Yes, that is correct. Your god has no power here, not while the artifact still gives us strength. Kukukuku. How fortunate that I will be the one to offer your soul to my lord! Think of the rewards he will bestow upon me!"**_

Yvraine, with renewed vigor, leap into the air, landing before the Keeper of Secrets. The priestess brandished her cronesword, her grynx hissing from her shoulder.

Clothing ripped and filled with exhaustion, Yvraine observed her forces engaging in a brutal melee with the enemy forces with her peripheral vision, ranged warriors offering support from the back lines.

"You will not have your way here, daemon."

The giant walked forward, its goat-like feet corrupting the very ground it stepped on in puddles of trans-dimensional poison.

Wretched perfume came off of the monster in waves, almost intoxicating all the Ynnari even through their rebreather helmets.

Yvraine remained mostly unaffected, as the blessings of Ynnead warded her from such corruption.

"_**Ah, but I will. There is nothing you could possibly do to turn the tide in this battle, little herald, and I will feast on your suffering before my ascension into further greatness. So proclaims, Vruzath The Agonizer!"**_

"I will die before I let you-"

The massive daemon sword came down at a pace Yvraine was unable to observe. She was barely able to bring up her own blade to block the cutting strike.

However, even though Kha-vir sliced through a small portion of the massive blade, a testament to its durability and strength, its master was not made from the same material.

Yvraine grimaced as the bones in her two legs shattered like glass from the impact, the adamantium floor under them forming a large crater as if struck by a meteor.

The attack had rattled every bone in her body, breaking a few of them. Her organs had sustained some degree of damage, not quite enough to rupture any important ones. Ynnead saw to that.

However, that was the extent of the Whispering God's power in this scenario. As the revolting colossus lifted its twisted sword once more, Yvraine could only hiss in pain, immobilized.

"The artifact. It grants you power!"

A twisted smile appeared on the Greater Daemon's face as it twisted its head to a strange angle.

"_**Yes. It powers the rift in your pathetic reality, strengthening my connection with the Warp. Even without it, I am powerful enough to slaughter your entire warband. But with it, there is nothing you can do anymore to stop me."**_

Yvraine growled, finding that she could not move at all anymore. Her shattered legs failed her, forcing the priestess into a kneeling position, helpless against the next attack.

The Greater Daemon smiled once more, its tongue unfurling like a crimson viper.

"_**It is a shame that you will die quickly, but I will have an eternity to offer your screams to my lord."**_

The blade came down once more.

Yvraine brought up her sword in one last desperate attempt to block the incoming attack, knowing that she would not survive.

The future was closed to her. It had been for a while now.

The priestess of the Whispering God found herself uncertain, faith in her people's survival wavering.

"_Has it all been for nothing? All our losses, all of our pain… is it all just going to end in She Who Thirsts once again?"_

Time seemed to freeze at that moment, several desperate and crazed Ynnari and Harlequins rushing to their lady as fast as their legs could carry them, knowing that they would not make it in time.

The Visarch howled in fury from his fallen position, further brutalizing his gravely-wounded body to somehow save his master.

The arrogant grin upon the daemon's abominable face became wider, revealing rows of perfect, yet horrible teeth.

And as the monster's sword crashed down on Yvraine, its steely edge promising a grusome demise, the world stood still.

The priestess braced herself, awaiting a blow that would end her service to all Eldar kind. A blow that would rip out her immortal soul and feed it to the most depraved of all gods.

A blow… that would never find its mark.

Instantly, a rift in the Warp opened, caused by a different source than the Prince of Pleasure.

Reality was torn open with contemptuous ease, allowing entry for something from its mirrored nemesis.

That entity arrived in the likeness of a burning supernova, an ever-expanding orb of fiery light expanding to infinity in the span of a single solar second.

And in that moment, the Ynnari felt it, a sensation in their souls that threatened to reduce all to ash. The awe-inspiring might of a neutron star, presented only a few meters away from their position.

The Eldar could only close their eyes and desensitize their own souls to bear the massive explosion of pure psychic energy, but their ears heard enough.

Instantly, the tortured screams of a hundred daemonettes filled the consecrated air as they were banished into the Warp, leaving no trace of their existence behind.

When the massive explosion of energy had finally passed, the severely labored form of a Keeper of Secrets was revealed, charred skin burning with holy fire in several blackened patches.

It still held its massive blade, but there was no motion in it.

Yvraine, finally being able to open her eyes, stared into the back of the new entity, the same entity that had just saved her life, and the lives of her followers.

The priestess did not know what she was expecting, but her savior was definitely not it.

She could only describe this new entity as an angel, borne of the myths of ancient Terra. That was the most like comparison.

Its appearance was similar to Saint Celestine, but comparing the two would never do the latter justice.

A well-proportioned body was covered by a greatcoat of gold, long black hair fluttering in the wind.

Floating off of the ground in a show of psychic might, the girl smiled. Twin golden wings, each a man's height in length, flared in a burst of flame, burning with the hope of a billion souls.

A ring-like halo stood atop the girl's head, representing the path to true salvation.

She held the Greater Daemon's massive sword with one gloved hand, effortlessly holding the weapon in place.

Cracks in the blade appeared thanks to her grip, threatening the structural integrity of the entire construct.

The daemon did not even to regain control of its sword, being in too much pain and bliss to do so.

"_**Y-you! How are you here?!"**_

Its voice came out as something between a scream and a moan, the daemon shivering as holy flames ate through its flesh.

Wordlessly, the golden angel ripped the blade out of the daemon's hand, adjusting her grip on the weapon that was ten times her height in length.

Drawing her arm back, the girl's limb disappeared in a gold blur as a black circle traveled through the air, aimed directly at the center of the daemon's face.

It was the beast's own sword, thrown in the likeness of a small dagger.

Needless to say, the Keeper of Secrets caught it without any problems.

And then, as the Saint turned around, gently floating towards Yvraine, the priestess was granted vision of true beauty.

A perfectly proportioned face smiled compassionately at her, twin golden eyes radiating nothing but positive intent.

A single, deceptively fragile hand was held out, as if presenting an offer for salvation.

And in that moment, fate was altered in a beneficial direction for both humanity and the Eldar.

"**Are you alright?"**

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Elsewhere, Eldrad Ulthran chuckled.

"_Just as planned."_


	14. The Price of Communication

**Hello there readers.**

**Before anything else, I would like to say that I'm deeply sorry for my lack of updates for the past few months.**

**School became extremly difficult for a while, and I did not have too much time to write.**

**However, that was not all.**

**I have recently entered something of a tournament for creative writing… and somehow, it was on some sort of national level and I got silver.**

**So, seeing this, I have decided to slightly increase my own standards of writing and also work on an original novel.**

**So, I will definitely fix up some previous chapters in this story and change some things to make more sense or to fit the universe.**

**I'll try to say everything I changed/added at the start of the next chapter. **

**This same message will also be displayed in the other story I am currently working on.**

As Yvraine stared into the compassionate eyes of her golden savior, she felt herself wavering, a great urge to take that hand suddenly piercing through her psyche.

The girl's form was a thing of perfection. Her body was so sublime, so brilliant, that even the priestess of Ynnead found herself humbled by it.

As the golden saint extended out her arm, however, Yvraine knew instantly that she could never take that hand.

Not even if the aura of the girl made her feel comforted and loved. Not even when it reminded her of her early days, days of a better life.

No, Yvraine could not take that hand, for if she did, then Ynnead could possibly lose his best herald to the Emperor of mankind.

With the last vestiges of her strength, the priestess slapped away her savior's hand weakly, grimacing at the effort.

She immediately passed out a second later, knowing that her further presence was unneeded, and that she could afford to do so.

Even if her savior was human, she could still be somewhat trusted. That was something that Yvraine was sure of, more than anything else. That warm aura would not allow the priestess to think any other way, not even if the weak sliver of Ynnead's power was urging her to resist with each passing second...

Seeing this, the face of her savior became shocked for a moment before forming a grin of understanding.

"**Yes. I understand, Yvraine."**

The golden angel turned her gaze upon the followers of Ynnead, bloody and bruised after their battle.

Her voice boomed like the hymns of a thousand saints, carrying a melodic strength and a charismatic power.

"**Hear me, apostles of the Whispering God! I am Mal, daughter of the God-Emperor of Mankind! I have come to aid you as an ally, not as an enemy! Leave the daemon to me and retreat!"**

Disoriented by Mal's enormous presence, the Ynnari found themselves unable to form any coherent words, their mouths failing them.

In fact, they were barely able to formulate any thoughts at all, not when the bright sun before them threatened to burn their very souls to ash.

Seeing this, Mal's eyes narrowed.

Her palm was suddenly outstretched, surrounded by a golden glow.

The Visarch, still crawling on the metal floor sever meters away from her, found himself lifted into the air by an invisible force, deposited right next to Yvraine.

With the last of his strength, the Eldar asked in pure bewilderment,

"Who are you?"

If Mal had any indication of hearing this, she did no show it. Finding himself at his limits, the Visarch collapsed, mind drifting into darkness just like his mistress.

Seeing this, Mal seemed to appraise their bodies, furrowing her eyebrows.

Then, as if reaching some interesting conclusion, the saint turned her head, now focused on the Greater Daemon facing her.

"**But first,"**

She raised her hand once more, and the chaos artifact began to float, consumed by golden energy.

The Keeper of Secrets, sensing something amiss, flinched instantly, as if trying to move its body to the side.

It was not fast enough.

The levitated artifact slammed into the creature's lower spine at the speed of a drop pod entering orbit, tearing a fist-sized hole in it.

The cube was unstained with poisonous ichor, as it had exited out the daemon's other side before gravity was even able to tug the liquid downwards.

Now floating in Mal's palm, the artifact seemed to screech in agony, as if the saint's very touch was a pain that even an agent of Slannesh could not hope to bear.

Frowning, the girl stated flatly,

"**Interesting…"**

Immediately locking eyes with the Greater Daemon, Mal did not even spare her allies a sideways glance, tossing the cube lightly to the nearest Eldar, a Harlequin with a frowning mask on his face.

A golden force shield surrounded the cursed item, warm to the touch. It would ensure that no Eldar would fall to the artifact's curse.

"**Take it and go, Harlequin. Bring your wounded with you. As I have said before, I shall prevent this daemon from pursuing you."**

Nodding wordlessly with his near-disabled mind, the worshipper of the Laughing God sprinted out of the room, followed by his comrades, not before they retrieved the prone forms of Yvrane and the Visarch.

Meanwhile, Mal stared calmly into the evil eyes of the Keeper of Secrets, a reflection of her prey in her eyes.

Faced with that stare, even the herald of Slannesh was unnerved.

After all, how could someone feel absolutely no emotion when staring upon it? The daemon was designed to induce the utmost revulsion and attraction in any and all beings. You would have to be a psychic blank to resist those emotions… so why?

Why was Mal staring at it as if the Greater Daemon was the same as a mere inanimate object?

While the Keeper of Secrets did not know it, pools of poisonous sweat had already formed at its feet, courtesy of its own body.

By now, the Eldar had already evacuated, taking the artifact with them.

Seeing this, Mal sighed.

The fire left her eyes, disappearing alongside her halo and wings, revealing a deceptively normal-looking girl with amethyst eyes.'

Her power seemed to disappear, the girl radiating a semi-normal pressure across the room.

Reaching into a golden portal that had appeared at her side, she retrieved a splendid, curved chainsword, glistening with otherworldly energies.

The Greater Daemon, no longer withstanding that soul-crushing pressure, found itself calming down, the burn marks on its flesh healing instantly.

Shame, it was growing fond of the pain too.

Mal readied herself in a sword-stance, preparing for a melee confrontation.

"Alright. I don't have to act anymore! Anyways, I'll be using you as a training dummy! No objections, right?"

The Greater Daemon snarled. It became angry for the first time in a millennium.

"_**I am no doll, child of the Anathema!"**_

The daemon had access to nearly all the secrets ever whispered across all of reality. It immediately knew the identity of the Emperor's newest child.

It also knew that it had no chance of winning in a normal circumstance, but Mal seemed to be underestimating its prowess. This could be used to quickly turn the tides, or so the herald thought.

In reality, it knew that there was no real chance of victory, but its master would not allow a retreat. Therefore...

Mal, on the other hand, was contemplating the situation.

"_Alright. A weak, no-name daemon of Slannesh. It's perfect for my first training dummy. Hopefully, I can improve a little."_

Eyeing the massive Warp portal a few meters away from the Daemon, Mal wondered if she should close it.

"_No, let's not. Fighting multiple combatants at the same time might serve as good preparation, or so I hope."_

And then, as if on cue, a swarm of daemonettes came out of the portal, lunging at Mal with their cursed claws.

Seeing this, Mal's eye twitched. Their battle-induced screams were a bit loud for her sensitive ears.

"_Ok, nope. They're just annoying. Ugly too."_

There was a blur of motion, and then ten daemonettes fell over, sliced into pieces.

Mal walked over to the Greater Deamon, seemingly uncaring of the smaller enemies that assaulted her.

As soon as they approached, they fell into strips of phantasmal flesh at her feet, foul ichor spilling into the ground. Gusts of shredding air were sent all across the room multiple times, able to draw blood from the flesh of an Astartes.

More daemonettes attacked her, only to meet the same end.

Eventually, Mal stopped a meter from the feet of the Greater Daemon, staring it right in the eye.

The giant's sword came down at hypersonic speeds, attempting to cut down its enemy before she even knew it.

However, Mal simply sidestepped the blade, watching as it embedded itself in the ground.

The daemonettes around them were knocked to their feet by the impact of the blow. The gust of wind simply ruffled Mal's hair.

Normally, anyone would find the daemons repulsive, their wretched perfume causing the hearts of man, woman, and child alike to choke in repulsion.

However, Mal simply did not care for it. This was nowhere as bad as the smell of nurgalite corruption, which even she would not be able to handle.

It was simply because of her dull previous life and former apathy.

Mal saw exactly what her enemy was and exactly what it entailed, but she simply accepted it. She did not recognize it as unnatural like her brothers, but simply saw it as a factor of the universe.

Besides, close proximity to the Emperor for multiple years had desensitized her to such weak psychic perfumes, so there was really nothing to say.

Observing the gigantic blade beside her, Mal's eyes widened.

"_That was actually pretty fast!"_

Recognizing the no-name Greater Daemon as something close to a worthy opponent, Mal disappeared in a flash of gold, appearing right in front of her enemy's face in an instant.

This was no psychic sorcery, nor a blessing of the Emperor.

Mal had sealed all of those aspects away, as she found the perfect opportunity to train her swordsmanship.

Here, she could fight one of the greatest champions of Slannesh by herself without endangering any lives. It was an opportunity hard to come by.

That said, this Keeper of Secrets was a no-name. It was not important or skilled to pose anything close to a life-threatening challenge, but that might have been the best for Mal's first Greater Daemon.

"_Hmm… I'm not too worried. That last hit was fast, but not that fast. I should be able to take this guy, no problem."_

Holding her saber one-handed, Mal spun in the air to gain momentum, swinging it down with mountain-splitting force.

The Greater Daemon bent backward, its spine twisting behind it in an unnatural manner.

Twin claws were suddenly upon Mal in a flash, trying to capture her within their world-crushing grips.

The girl spun midair, and suddenly, deep wounds ran along both of the giant's arms, bleeding pink ichor.

As Mal landed on the ground, The Keeper of Secrets clawed at her with its fingered hand, attempting to gut the girl with its talons.

Stopping the blow with one free hand, Mal looked to the side, seeing a massive daemonsword slicing towards her waist at reality-distorting speeds.

"_If I try to block, it'll attack with the other arms. If I jump up to dodge, it'll change the blade's direction mid-air."_

There was only one option in this case.

Mal leaped backward, distancing herself from the daemon by twenty meters.

As the daemon's sword cut nothing but empty air, it suddenly felt a sharp pain at its legs, not realizing that its etherial muscles had been cut at the last moment.

Moaning in pleasure, the Keeper of Secrets dropped to its knees in a kneeling position, now at a lowered elevation.

It felt a large gust of wind at the back of its neck, Warp-born precognition recognizing the sharp kiss of rotating steel at its throat.

Reality itself seemed to fold as the Keeper of Secrets disappeared from its previous location, Warp-embued speed carrying it fifty feet away from its opponent, allowing it to face her.

Hamstrung legs healed in mere seconds as the giant rose to its full height, muscles in all four limbs tensing until they were harder than adamantium.

This time, as Mal moved forward, the Greater Daemon was ready for her, all four limbs accelerating rapidly, offering a hail of blows upon the depowered saint.

Smiling, the girl's own hands shot out, blocking or parrying each attack that came at her.

"_A test of speed, huh? Too bad. I've seen much better."_

Indeed, comparing the speed of the Emperor to a mere daemon was not something that should ever be done.

Still, Mal was accustomed to much worse than these attacks, even if they were not actually slow at all.

The girl walked forward, arms swinging in unnoticeable blurs. Every time her weapons met with the enemy's, there was a crash of sound, like the deafening roar of a sonic weapon. Every strike was enough to sunder a castle wall, every parry sturdy enough to withstand a hundred thunder hammers striking as one.

Needless to say, the lesser daemons could not get close. They were knocked away by the unintentional blasts of energy generated by the seismic battle before them, the overzealous ones being torn to pieces by their sheer proximity to the grenade-like roars of crossing swords and colliding limbs.

Mal deflected the gigantic daemon sword of her foe a hundred times in a single second, putting all the skills she could muster into her limbs.

The same could be said for the daemon's other attacks, but they were all much slower than the movement of its sword.

The Keeper of Secrets, feeling threatened now, lashed out in a burst of psychic energy, purple sparks of conceptualized pleasure shaking the museum to its foundations.

Powered by the artifact which summoned it, the daemon became faster and stronger than before, reality-folding speed carrying it forward at a pace that even Mal was shocked at.

Instantly, the giant disappeared in a dispersal of pink mist, appearing behind Mal with its sword raised.

The girl was barely able to bring up her saber in time to intercept the supercharged daemon sword crashing down upon it, the impact releasing the destructive potential of a hellstrike missile.

"_It's faster."_

Using a considerable amount of arm strength, Mal broke from the clash by knocking away the enemy's sword, only to be trapped between two fast-moving crab claws, radiating dark pink fumes.

After a split-second decision, Mal released her sword, moving her hands to her sides in a burst of superhuman strength.

She gripped a claw in each hand, gripping them in place with such force that the appendages' carapaces cracked and screamed as if in pain.

Instantly, the daemon's gigantic unarmored claw swung at Mal from the side, sparkling with pink electricity.

Instantly ducking under the blow, the girl managed to dodge the attack well. Her hair, not quite following Mal's movements in time, was cut to half its length. However, the severed strands quickly reconnected to its original position in a half-second, as if nothing had happened to them in the first place.

The gale winds from the Greater Daemon's strike tore through the daemonettes around it, shredding their repulsive purple flesh.

Mal, taking advantage of her crouched position, leaped upwards, not before tearing her sword from the ground.

With the force of a thousand bolter rounds, she thrust her sword upwards, aiming for the massive throat of her foe.

And then, her eyes widened as the massive daemon shifted out of her way, evading the supersonic thrust with a swift shift in location by utilizing the Warp.

Finding her sword plunged through the ceiling of the museum, Mal launched herself from the adamantium structure, spinning through the air towards her enemy in an attempt to gain momentum.

It was like a human bullet. However, no bullet could go as fast as Mal was right now. She had long since breached the sound barrier, and was now already at Mach 4.

In response to this, the Keeper of Secrets snarled in rage, placing its twin crab claws and sword in front of its body in an attempt to defend itself.

However, as Mal finally reached the defense of her enemy, bringing her sword down on it with the force of a nuclear warhead, she found that the daemon had sidestepped, bringing down its clawed hand down on her.

Mal, who had invested everything into her last attack, was near powerless against the blindingly fast blow.

"_Shit!"_

That was all she could think before the daemon's claws tore into her chest, creating a deep gash on her body.

The force of the blow knocked Mal into the wall furthest away from her, the impact creating a massive crater in the metal, almost as if a meteor had struck it.

The girl dropped to the ground, clutching her stomach and chest, attempting to safeguard the organs and intestines that were already threatening to spill out.

"_Shit! This hurts too much!"_

Normally, Mal had fantastic pain resistance. In her previous life, the girl had not cared about what happened to her in the least. Since her life was so meaningless, she suffered all sorts of injuries without any reaction.

After all, even if she died from those injuries, so what? It wasn't as if there was anything worth living for.

In fact, it was only a small sliver of hope that kept Mal from killing herself outright. That sliver of hope inside the girl kept telling her that someday, she would find meaning in life. Someday, there would actually be a purpose for her.

In the end, that sliver was not much, and it certainly did not make Mal value her life too much. The only thing that slight hint of emotion had inspired was a reluctance towards suicide. That was all.

However, now Mal has finally found meaning in her life, a loving father who backed her at every turn; she found herself valuing life much more than before.

Moreover, Mal's new body brought with it new, increased senses.

She could feel every single nerve end in her wound cry out as one, seeing the damage through a lense of absolute pain, estimating the grade of physical damage through bodily suffering.

A slight wound was transformed into a roaring pain. A light injury was morphed into a blinding agony, and a fatal injury was transformed into suffering that would lay low even the most stalwart of veterans.

"_Oh, it's not healing very fast. Probably some Slanneshi sorcery. Okay, I'm still not using my powers. Don't need them for this!"_

Normally, Mal could be easily persuaded to change her mind, if given the right information. However, she knew for a fact that she did not need to use her powers on the daemon before her.

After all, it was just a random, no-name Keeper of Secrets. If she couldn't even defeat this thing in her base form, then something was terribly wrong.

Therefore, lifting herself off the ground, Mal stood on slightly wobbly knees, slightly groaning in pain.

She had not been expecting the greater daemon to suddenly increase in power, and had been caught by surprise.

"_No more of that."_

Mal simply stood still as the Keeper of Secrets chuckled, warping out of existence in a mist of pink corruption.

Closing her eyes, the girl held her sword with one hand, wounds half-healed.

"_Calibrating trajectory of attacks, strength of attacks, dexterity of body, measuring Warp-enhanced speed. Equalizing… adapting… calculating method of victory… calculating… calculating… __**complete**__."_

And then, not even a millisecond after its disappearance, the greater daemon appeared behind Mal, its grotesque mouth twisted in a grin of triumph.

All limbs slicing towards Mal in the likeness of four guillotines, the daemon planned to eviscerate its target while she was still recovering.

"_**Become fodder for my ascension, demigod!"**_

And then, as the grotesque arms closed in on her location, Mal simply stood… _and deactivated the power field on her sword._

The Keeper of Secrets stared in confusion, an unusual frown gracing its beautiful, yet abominable face.

Its arms were not moving. The limbs of its physical form, the one optimized for its existence in the material plane, could not move.

Irritated, the daemon assumed that Mal had used some sort of Warp trickery.

Then, it looked down, hearing four objects impact upon the ground as one.

A furious scream of an otherworldly creature could be heard from miles away, expressing its anger and pain on the damage inflicted upon it.

As Mal turned around, expression calm, she observed the sight of a screaming daemon, roaring in rage that was unbefitting of Slannesh.

Its arms, appendages with such durability that they could shrug off jets of plasma, laid on the ground in ruins, dissipating in wisps of pink dust.

Their master, glaring at the poison-blood jets erupting from its four stumps, tensed its entire existence, unwilling to accept the result it had been presented with.

"_**How?! You were not this powerful before!"**_

Mal patted down her clothing, her wounds long healed.

Opening a gate in the Warp next to her, the girl slid her sword into it, as there was no need for it anymore. Her enemy would not be holding a weapon again in this battle. She would make sure of it.

She spoke disinterestedly at her enemy, as if not considering it to be worthwhile.

"Let me guess, the artifact gave you a massive power boost, and you can do unreasonable things. So now you're raging and moaning about how I can beat you in my base form, right?"

A snarl was her only answer, and Mal did not seem to care.

"Well, it doesn't matter to me. I've already beaten you five-hundred and thirteen times."

And then, the greater daemon looked into the demigod's blank eyes, and knew fear for the first time in its existence.

"If you're asking, I'll tell you."

Walking closer, Mal seemed to grow larger by the second, becoming a figurative giant to the greater daemon.

She pointed to her head with her index finger, tapping it one time.

"I've simulated our fight five-hundred and fourteen times. Since you're at full power, I lost the first one. However, after that, there was plenty of time to calculate and memorize your movement patterns to the point where I knew them by heart."

The daemon seethed in anger at its opponent's confidence, arms regenerating in an instant.

Leaping to its feet in a half-second, a plethora of hypersonic strikes headed towards Mal, each capable of splitting apart whole baneblades. The daemon did not have time to pick up its sword. It knew that the demigod would not allow such a course of action, not without a price.

Faced with this new threat, Mal simply… disappeared.

As if vanishing from existence, the girl had avoided all of the deathblows, while simultaneously appearing a mere two feet away from the daemon's face, slightly below it.

"_I can't believe how much I was missing out. There are so many better methods to move than the clumsy ones I used before. A little bit of research in my head can lead to a lot of results, huh?"_

Mal uppercut with her right fist, and the greater daemon's repulsive nose was smashed into oblivion, the force of the impact causing the creature to bite off its own tongue, the impact knocking it back several meters. This left traces of destruction in the adamantium floor, hoof prints trailing in a road-like pattern.

Mal had used every ounce of her mental power to search for a solution to this battle, and after simulating several battles with her foe, she finally found it. A sure path to victory.

Memorizing the structural consistency of her surroundings, the air resistance, and the behavior of her opponent, Mal had formed many simulations in the blink of an eye, completing each one faster than a supercomputer could calculate basic arithmetic.

Those simulations served to enhance her knowledge and power, as Mal learned how to manipulate her body to yield better results with every battle. Certain stances were created and optimized, releasing the constraints of an imperfect form.

Wasted movement was reduced to moot, and physical prowess was released in its maximum potential.

While Mal's base specs were inferior to that of a Primarch's, that did not mean she could not kill a simple greater daemon.

Therefore…

The greater daemon was suddenly behind Mal in a blink of Warp energy, slicing at her airborne form.

To this, the girl spun in the air, evading each strike by mere millimeters. She landed atop the daemon's pincer claw, its potent aura finding no purchase upon her blessed body.

"_It is still unpleasant though."_

Before the daemon could react, Mal had already dashed up its claw and onto its shoulder, unleashing a perfectly-positioned strike that obliterated her opponent's neck in an overwhelming show of force.

The Keeper of Secrets choked as the immaterial bones within its neck was reduced to a million shards of Warp matter, the force of Mal's blow compressing it like a pitiful stalk of celery.

Cursing in aroused fury, the Keeper of Secrets' infernal head drooped from its shoulders, like a ball contained within a meaty sack, dangling from an elevated position.

Without waiting for her enemy to react, Mal grabbed a portion of the daemon's neck before it could begin to heal.

She spun the large cylindrical shape, taking advantage of its now flaccid form.

Generating enough motion energy to open a thousand steel gates, Mal twisted the greater daemon's neck again and again, a hundred times in a single moment.

By the time the deed was done, the greater daemon's physical form was a joke.

Its head drooped from its body in the likeness of a slinky toy, body still desperately attempting to attack its aggressor.

Even though she was cursed at in a language of times immemorial, containing words of supreme power, Mal shrugged past it all, gripping the daemon's neck with both hands.

Before the greater daemon's neck could unfurl due to its unnatural healing, Mal continued to twist it even further, until the wretched pink flesh of the monster became strained and bleeding, the tissue just a small step away from tearing.

The creature's twin claws bent in unnatural directions, speeding towards Mal akin to great missiles.

Expecting this, the demigod did not even turn to look at them before hopping off the daemon, gripping its head the whole time.

And as the creature's neck, stretched to the maximum of its tensile strength, was ripped in twain by Mal's weight, its head held in her hands

The separated body of the daemon, instead of falling like any rational organism, simply stood still, as if frozen in time.

The severed head of the creature, dripping with venomous ichor, was more massive than Mal's entire torso, large enough for her entire body to fit within it.

Knowing what would happen next, the girl tossed the head to her side with one hand, dashing forth in the next.

The giant monstrosity's head would regenerate and reattach in a few seconds, but Mal did not give it the opportunity to do so.

Disappearing in a flash of motion, she reappeared in front of one of the daemon's kneecaps, almost as if suspended mid-air.

Delivering a great punch to the immaterial cartilage and bone of the daemon, Mal snapped its left leg in twain, the limb bending in the opposite direction it was supposed to. This was followed by the sounds of brutal cracking and tearing, highlighted by the scent of ectoplasma.

In a mere second, the giant's other leg met the same fate, no longer able to support its weight.

Suddenly, the venomous daemon fell to the ground with a mighty crash, head finally regenerated.

However, it knew that its regeneration had been too slow, and the enemy now had the advantage.

Mal knew this too, speeding towards the daemon's face and delivering a fist into the fleshy mass, unleashing enough power to demolish an imperial knight.

The daemon's face was unrecognizable, only defined by a massive crater that disallowed the existence of eyes, mouth, and nose.

"You see, I can't really banish you without using my powers. However, doing so would take the whole point out of this training. Therefore, I'll just beat you until the Ynnari gets so far away with the artifact that you can't maintain your existence anymore."

Another punch was delivered into the daemon's already ruined face, smashing past even more biological defenses.

The unnatural bones consisting of the daemon's skull was fractured with the first punch.

But Mal's brutal assault would not end with a single strike.

Normally, she would not be as brutal against many other life forms, her moral code disapproving of needless mutilation.

However, this kindness did not extend to daemons by any mean.

Mal knew what they were, just small chunks of emotion and desire, cut off from the largest mass of emotions and desires in the universe.

Their debatable 'sentience' was nothing but a mere illusion in the end, and all of them were nothing but a massive pain in humanity's rectum.

Daemons were nothing but humanity's most troublesome enemy, unremorseful and unceasing in their malicious ways.

They were one of the greatest enemies of Mal's father, and she would treat them as such… at least for now…

Mal's fists became a blur, sending hundreds of strikes into the daemon's body by the second.

Each strike was capable of breaching adamantium, each impact containing the explosive might of a hellfury missile.

In an instant, the greater daemon's head was gone once again, crushed to oblivion under the punches of its aggressor.

With each punch, Mal's fist drew back. Each time they drew back, she was careful not to waste the prebiously-generated kinetic energy, repurposing it for the next punch.

This resulted in the acceleration of her fist, causing an increase of speed and damage, something the daemon would not enjoy.

Moving down the greater daemon's body in a slow and methodical manner, Mal did not stop hammering down upon her enemy's body for an instant, cautiously eyeing the lesser daemons around her.

Now Mal was not clashing with the greater daemon, the smaller heralds of Slannesh would not be torn apart immediately by the physical side-effects of their battle.

However, the impacts of her punches against the greater daemon's flesh unleashed great shockwaves of wind that would knock even an Astartes to their feet. Therefore, the daemonettes could not even approach her, once again.

Mal moved down and up the daemon's massive body, immediately demolishing any pat of it she deemed to be regenerated to an unacceptable level. This kept the greater daemon brutally flattened against the cratered ground, akin to some sort of demented pancake, oozing thick acidic venom.

"_This is just pathetic. The little ones can't even get to me."_

Keeping up her assault, Mal waited three more minutes for the greater daemon to lose its strength, for the Eldar to evacuate from this world.

Eventually, it happened.

Feeling the regeneration of the greater daemon slowing, Mal stopped her punching, observing the regeneration of her foe instead.

Seeing an opportunity, the army of daemonettes rushed at her, determined to rip the girl to shreds.

But the bones of the greater daemon had partially regenerated before they reached her.

This fact would seal their fates.

Mal, as if evaluating the cooking time of a pot roast, hummed in satisfaction as if the dish had been sufficiently prepared.

And in the next second, she did something not even her brothers would think of.

Eyeing the greater daemon as if it was nothing but a mere weapon, Mal tightly grabbed one of its tree-stump legs, pulling it towards her.

As soon as she did that, Mal began to spin, dragging the unfortunate daemon with her.

The greater daemon, half-healed, could not struggle in time, and it was soon too late for such a thing to have consequence.

Mal's entire body became a tornado as she spun on one leg, dragging along her new victim.

The greater daemon's leg was seemingly sucked into a vacuum, resulting in a motion that it had no control over.

Under Mal's overwhelming strength, the daemon prince was simply dragged along under her whims, meaning that it was used as a weapon against its own underlings, a simple broom moving in a circular motion.

The air around Mal seemed to burn as the speed of her rotation surpassed the possibility of humanity, making the greater daemon an effective extended weapon.

It was like a battlecruiser crashing into a belt of asteroids.

In less than a second, all of the daemonettes streaming from the portal were destroyed, their physical forms strewn across the floors of the museum before they could even react.

Mal was not dizzy from spinning as much as she did. After all, that genetic imperfection no longer existed within her body.

Sensing that her mission was complete, the girl stopped spinning her victim, who had now regenerated to the point where flakes of skin were appearing on its form.

However, it seemed to be even slower than before, causing a smile to grow on Mal's face.

"It looks like they're about to get out of range. You're about to disappear."

The daemon hissed in fury as it laid on the ground, leg still firmly trapped in Mal's grip.

"_**A minor setback. Rest assured in knowing that I will NEVER stop hunting you down, child of the Anathema."**_

Mal raised an eyebrow.

"You're currently overcharged because of the Chaos artifact. If this extra powerful version of you couldn't defeat me, what makes you think a weaker version will?"

The greater daemon laughed, its regenerated tongue tensed and extended like an angered viper.

"_**There isss more than one method of attack... Rest assured that I am more than aware of all of them…"**_

Mal sighed.

"Well, I was expecting that… I was going to piss off a daemon eventually. I'm just glad the first one was a no-name like you."

Hissing was the only reply to that statement, something the daemon seemed to do regularly.

As of now, Mal could clearly see the flesh of the greater daemon begin to flake off and disappear in purple mist.

"Hmm, it looks like they're in a starship already. Guess I'll kill you now."

The rapid degradation of the daemon could only mean that the Ynnari had already reached one of their starships. The distance they covered would make the connection of the daemon and the artifact weaken tremendously.

Looking to the portal behind the greater daemon, Mal hummed.

The rift in reality was flickering, threatening to collapse at any moment. Any lesser daemon that attempted to enter realspace vanished instantly, the flimsy connection not enough to support their physical forms.

This did not completely apply to the greater daemon, who was only severely weakened.

Even so, it was in no position to resist Mal now, nearing the end of its time in the material plane.

Seeing this, Mal changed her mind.

Originally, she was going to fight the daemon until it disappeared on its own, without utilizing lethal force.

However, she realized that if she banished the greater daemon personally, it would not be able to materialize again for some time.

That was simply how daemons worked. If a skilled psyker sent them back to the Warp correctly, the daemon would be permanently restricted from appearing near the time of the banishment, sometimes by a century, sometimes even a millennium.

In fact, if Mal did not banish this greater daemon right now, it could possibly appear right in the middle of the Ynnari through the corrupted artifact she gave them.

The force shield she had conjured over the artifact worked as something akin to an anti-Chaos charm, created with her own physic essence. She had been keeping it apparated for quite some time now, but thanks to Mal's newfound multitasking powers, it was not too much of an issue.

Even so, if a greater daemon wanted to break out of such a flimsy shield, then it could do so easily, as the artifact was somehow ingrained with a connection to the Warp.

Therefore, Mal had to banish the daemon so it could not materialize for quite a long time.

Knowing this, Mal nodded, eyes glowing with golden power.

A halo of power shimmered over her head, as if flickering in and out of existance.

The daemon, seeming to know what would happen, only smiled as its mutilated body struggled to regenerate. The creature's words were angry and frustrated, but those emotions were not present in its tone.

"_**You will pay for thisss. I swear upon the Prince of Pleasure, I will break you for thisss."**_

Despite knowing that it had already been defeated, the greater daemon of Slannesh simply grinned at the setback, knowing that its revenge would be all that much sweeter.

It was a daemon. Time quite literatly had no impact on its ilk. Therefore, the Warp-spawned horror would simply bide its time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. And there was always a perfect time to strike. After all, from the present to the end of time, there were still quite many trillions of years left.

Mal's right arm was suddenly encased in an aura of white-hot flame, burning with more majesty of the Arumite of the custodians.

The lesser daemons which had just exited the portals clutched their physical forms in pain, while the greater daemon just smiled once more, ignoring the slight burns appearing on its body.

And then, with a slight grin on her face, Mal suddenly appeared before the fallen daemon, distorting reality in order to accelerate past the confines of all physical laws.

It was the exact technique the greater daemon had utilized in their battle.

Standing before the fallen giant, Mal tilted her head to the side, already drawing back her flaming limb.

"This is goodbye, for now. Just know that when you're back, I'll be ready for you."

And then, without waiting for a response, the burning arm was shoved into the chest of the greater daemon, an action that incited a scream from the very embodiment of its presence in the Warp.

In an instant, the greater daemon was aflame, consumed by the power of its patron's greatest enemy.

To be a daemon before the Emperor's power was to perish. This was a well-known fact.

The greater daemon was given the opportunity to scrutinize this fact at close proximity.

A swirl of golden flame circled around the being's form, dutifully consuming every portion of corrupt flesh, obliterating every trace of unnatural existence.

For the greater daemon, it was a sensation more painful than anything it had felt before.

Worse than the humiliation of its low station.

Worse than the bite of Khorne's dogs.

Worse than the lashes of the Prince of Pleasure himself.

As a servant of Slannesh, the greater daemon was supposed to be able to take pleasure from every possible sensation.

However, when faced with the might of the God-Emperor, it found itself truly, utterly detesting a sensation for the first time.

What the daemon felt was not pain, at least not in the conventional sense.

It was something that could not be explained in any language, only experienced by the enemies of the god of humanity. In other words, it was an exclusive sensation.

However, even if the greater daemon found itself detesting the new sensation, the fact that it could actually detest any feeling brought a sense of freshness to its being, a sliver of intrest entering its unfavorable psyche.

"_**Intresting~" **_

With the last of its strength, the daemon spoke those words through burned lips, already toasted to a hideous black. A millisecond, even that blackness was reduced to nothing, consumed in holy flame.

And with the greater daemon's demise, the portal linking the Warp to the materium screeched with otherworldly agony, as if sentient.

Then, it snapped shut with a cosmic boom, rejected from reality thanks to Mal's very presence.

Mal simply looked to the traces of pinkish miasma that were left, walking away from the room as it subsided.

Soon, the museum of the ancients was once again devoid of life, its glorious form left for the newest generation of explorers to behold.

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Yvraine was safe aboard her ship, clutching the golden orb within her hand. The Visarch stood to her side, his hand on his sword at all times. His wounds had already been removed by the Aledari medics, but his suspicions were anything but.

"Mistress. It is not wise to keep the corrupted artifact so close to you. Who knows when this strange barrier will falter and fail?"

Yvraine sighed.

"Did you not behold _her_ power, Visarch? I wish to study it with my own eyes for any future benefits she may bring."

She leveled her gaze at him.

"Besides, it has not failed us yet. We have no reason to believe that it will at a later time."

The Visarch snorted.

"Such trust in a lowly mon-keigh, mistress… they have failed so many times in the past. What makes you think this time will be any different?"

Yvraine simply raised an eyebrow.

"We have had the same concern with Rouboute Guilliman. And my answer is still the same. The new variable is just a temporary ally, nothing more. We will use her to bring our own ambitions to fruition. That is all."

The Visarch snorted. However, he did not say more, seeing that Yvraine could not be convinced to see matters from his point of view. However, he had to concede that his mistress's line of thinking yielded an ample amount of results for now. That was a fact, and no matter how lowly he thought of the mon-keigh, there was no changing it.

However, as both Yvraine and the Visarch were lost within their own thoughts, the golden sphere within the priestess's hands suddenly began to shift and shimmer, the energies holding it together changing itself into… something _more_.

Yvraine swiftly tossed the orb into the air, drawing her blade in a smooth motion, already ready to slice down upon the shielded artifact.

Her eyes were filled with mystical energy as she began to call upon the power of Ynnead, ready to cast the foul Slanneshi artifact into the Warp if she needed to.

However, such a need was not existent, as the strange cube seemed to retract into itself for a brief moment, as if combating a force that threatened to overwhelm it.

And suddenly, it's repulsive pink color morphed into gold for a brief second before changing back. It floated in the air, as if light as a feather.

Yvraine, still ready for anything, was astounded by this.

"What?"

The Visarch eyed the cube warily, sword already drawn.

"On guard, mistress! Be prepared for anything!"

Yvraine could only nod, glad that her trusted advisor was of the same mind as her.

The cube began to shift and convulse mid-air, its shape distorted by Warp-borne energies that did not abide by the laws of physics.

And then, it erupted in an explosion of golden flame.

The shockwave was enormous to the psychically sensitive Yvraine, basked in the energies of her god. However, for the Visarch and everyone else aboard their ship, it was little more than an almost undetectable feeling, a shivering of warmth from their bodies.

Yvraine was forced to take a step back as the energy washed over her, so similar yet so different at the same time.

It was akin to the energies of her own god, but so, so different.

Ynnead was calm and serene, foretelling of a gentle death, his whispers stealthily stalking across the souls of all.

However, unlike the subtle aura of the Whispering God, the power of this entity was loud and brazen, proudly asserting its power without any restraint and mindfulness to others.

It was appalling, yet satisfying. Terrifying, yet beautiful in its own primal way.

The priestess of Ynnead's knees shook in a moment of weakness, her sword almost dropping to the ground.

Eyes widened in disbelief, Yvraine declared,

"It's her!"

And then, the cube she had sought to obtain, the cube that her followers had sacrificed their lives to obtain, fell to the ground with a dull clang, the beautifully-crafted wraithbone surface redirecting all kinetic energy outwards.

However, instead of the sickening pink of Slannesh, the artifact now glowed with a golden sheen, reminiscent of Imperial architecture.

Yvraine, cautious, stared at the altered cube with wide eyes.

"This is…"

And then, deciding to take a risk, the priestess picked up the cube with one hand, prepared to purify it in the power of Ynnead if need be.

However, precautions were not necessary, as the artifact did nothing but continue to glow brightly as it was.

And then, Yvraine knew.

The psychic signature of the artifact resembled the mark of the Imperial saint. Comfortable warm, and unceasingly radiant.

"I see. So this is _her_ work."

And then, a tendril of barely-tangible wraith-light extended from the cube's surface, curling and twisting into the form of symbols. Symbols Yvraine knew to be originating from the language of High Gothic.

"A message?"

The Visarch scowled in his helmet, his body tense.

"Do not trust the human's words mistress! They are fraught with lies!"

Yvraine, however, was beyond convincing. The words of a new ally could not be so easily dismissed.

She was already running a finger through the series of gold-shining letters in the air, deciphering them with ease.

"'_My apologies, herald of the Whispering God. I cannot meet with you for some time in the foreseeable future. However, I am glad that I arrived on time to rescue you from the Slanneshi trap. It would be a shame to lose such a valuable ally to such a thing.'"_

Yvraine paused.

"Her words are not humble, but neither are they truly arrogant. I am not sure what to make of this."

And then, she read on.

"'_Now, our business is concluded, at least for the moment. I can only wish you luck on your current endeavors, as I have other matters that need my immediate attendance.'"_

Yvraine frowned as the artifact dropped to the ground, losing most of its golden luster. A great portion still remained, but it was more calm, more controlled.

The Visarch declared in a rare burst of irony,

"Well _that_ was certainly an elegant method to send a message."

Yvraine allowed herself to smile slightly at the quip, picking up the artifact and securing it within her grasp.

"Humanity was never known for their elegance, and they will never approach us in this aspect."

Unfolding her fan in front of her face, Yvraine glanced at the Visarch with amusement clear in her expression.

"However, their usefulness shows itself in their lack of it. Sometimes, a primitive dagger will yield more of a prize than even the most articulate of long rifles. The prowess of a weapon depends on the battlefield it is tested upon."

Even the Visarch could only nod his head at these words, hiding a snort behind his helmet. This wisdom was not something he would deny, as years of military experience proved his mistresses' words.

Eyeing the bright stars from a window upon her starship, Yvraine could not help but smile in eager anticipation.

"I eagerly await our next meeting, _Archsaint_."

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Mal found herself within the dark shroud of the Warp once more, idly observing the hordes of daemons attempting to assault her from every conceivable angle and direction.

Even if Mal's sheer presence was enough to keep the daemons at bay, she was still able to observe them in their entirety.

In the Warp, the daemons flaunted their true forms without a care of the world, becoming impossible existences surpassing the threshold of every dimension.

For the nature of the Immaterium itself was not as shallow and meek to be considered a mere dimension. No, the palace of Tzeench itself consisted of seven dimensions, and the rules within every plane of existence itself was rendered dull and void within the anti-reality that was the Warp.

For the creatures which dwelled in this chaotic antithesis of reality, the only rules that were imposed on them originated with the wishes and desires of their betters, other Warp-borne entities containing more power than them.

And compared to a being like Mal, who, in the Warp, had the power to make and unmake entire multiverses with but a single thought, these mere serfs were nothing but minnows to a megalodon. Insignificant existences that could be erased with nothing but one of the girl's stray thoughts.

With nothing but a mere gaze, Mal saw into the essences of each individual daemon, gaining access to every emotion that birthed them, learning of their secrets, peering into body and mind and everything underneath.

And as she did so, the daemons, in turn, felt their powers lessen and their existences weaken, as Mal was anathema to them, and merely being within her presence caused them to wane.

This made the situation much less frightening for Mal. A normal human would be terrified and entranced by the daemons' mere presence. However, her gifts ensured that she was safe from such weakness.

As Mal navigated through the transdimensional planes of the Immaterium, she painted the very layout of its confines a brilliant gold, replacing violence and abundance with hope and truth in the likeness of paint on a blank canvas.

As she traveled back to the confines of her starship, Mal thought back to the mission the Emperor assigned to her, and its details.

Whilst the demigod was within her chambers, giving thought towards a new plan for the Imperium, an urgent cry rang across the infinite vestiges of the Warp, alerting her to its call instantaneously.

The sheer power and familiarity of the call made the messager's identity as clear as day, and the Emperor's daughter began her mission with steadfast grace.

A certain set of spacial coordinates were placed within her mind, and details of the mission were laid as bare as a newborn babe.

She was tasked to rescue the lives of the Ynnari, and did so without much trouble. However, the cleansing of the "artifact" was not completely intentional, and Mal was mystified on how she managed to do so for a brief moment.

Chaotic corruption was not something that simply vanished, not even when the Emperor's daughter was involved in its cleansing.

No, the nature of Chaos itself made it so that such a thing was near-impossible. The corrupting nature of the dark gods could not be so easily neutralized.

Therefore, for Mal to have not only purified, but blessed it in the Emperor's light… there were certainly other forces at play here.

While this information unveiled concerning knowledge, Mal knew that she simply did not know enough to make a judgment on her best course of action.

Therefore, she simply journeyed through the Warp, moving towards the Lion's home to meet with Valierian once more.

She had done an acceptable job with the resources provided. Therefore, Mal was satisfied with her work.

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"Ah, yes. It is all coming together, just as we planned."

A lone figure stood in the center of a dark room, its wraithbone walls humming with still-flowing psychic energy.

Perhaps this was a storage area of some sorts. Or perhaps it was simply the private chambers of the ancient psyker.

It did not matter.

The thrumming cube it contained, however, was of the utmost importance.

That same invaluable object was held upon the figure's palm, radiant gold contrasting sharply with dull black.

Silken chuckles exited the figure's mouth, sounds that were capable of charming the most stoic of men and women alike.

"It is ironic, is it not? That your subjects would say that my cruelty surpasses yours by far."

Delicately dusting off the cube's surface with a hand, the figure glanced at it with laughter in his eyes.

"Led into a trap in the search for a holy artifact, unknowing of its true purpose, and just how mundane it really is…"

A crack appeared upon the arcane cube, tongues of golden lightning dispersing in all directions.

"I almost feel sorry for poor Yvraine… Well, I _was_ the one who persuaded her into going."

The cube shattered, creating an explosion of holy light, drowning the room in golden flame.

"And you wonder why I ended our friendship back then."

The figure stood at the center of the damaged room, unharmed by the heat values he was exposed to, comparable to that of a neutron star's.

He narrowed his eyes upon seeing the object laying upon the palm of his hand. The hilarity had already passed. Now, there was only resolution, and a hint of anger.

"All this, _my_ _Emperor_, for a telephone."

Clutching the small and seemingly-delicate object within his hand, Eldrad Ulthran exited the room. His tone was melancholic, his mood unknowable.

"Now, then. Where _is _Yvraine? I do believe that she needs to be… _rewarded _for the _momentous _tasks she has completed…"

And thus, Eldrad Ulthran fulfilled the oath he had taken twenty millennia prior, made with a man who he once called a friend.

The gears of fate had turned once more, and the deity who had taken ahold of them for the occasion completed one more step of his unfathomable agenda.

Tzeench would be proud, truly.

**Isn't it funny? **

**When I started writing this, I thought I made Mal too overpowered for the universe she was in…**

**Then I read up on the novels…**

**Turns out she wasn't overpowered enough from the very start!**

**Hahaha, it feels like I pranked myself...**


End file.
